


dried ink

by orphan_account



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Confessions, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:04:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 87,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8286842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mickey is released from jail after eight years.Original work by user mikhailo.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Mickey "He Deserved Better" Milkovich. 
> 
> Tags will be updated as the story progresses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue.

"Hurry up, Milkovich." The CO urged as Mickey eyed his clothing.

It was strange. He could've just as easily have forgotten, he has in fact, but the rest of the world did not. Arriving in with these clothes eight years ago and now departing in them; it was rather poetic.

Like his time in jail was a pause button on his life, and in a way it was. But he knew better that everyone else wouldn't wait.

The navy parker. The grey hoodie. The worn jeans and the matching long sleeve; even the fucking undershirt was the same.

Everything. Everything was the same. Just as he remembered.

He felt sick with nostalgia.

Quickly, he changed into his clothingー _his_ ー and it was so strange for something to be his again; to have something that always was his, but even he still trembled at the hands at the concept.

He followed the CO down the endless mounds of corridors until he was ushered into what seemed like an interview room. There, he was motioned to sit down in front of a lady with a file.

He stared at her and she stared back for good measure.

"So I see you know why you're here." She began. Mickey's eyebrow quirked up at her toneーdismissive if anything.

"You're letting me out. Overcrowding or some shit."

She huffed in amusement at the bite in Mickey's voice. She then opened the file, scanning through it. "So you know that you've still got about seven years left in your sentence." She flipped the page, "Attempted murder." She noted before looking up at Mickey, "You didn't even go to trial."

"Does it look like I can afford a lawyer? Or would anyone have given me a chance, with the way I look and all?" Mickey made a show of tapping his tattooed fingers against the metal of the table to exemplify his words.

The lady looked somewhat sympathetic, "Yeah, well that's why I'm here. Your chance."

"Why?"

"In and out of juvie since you were twelve, never finished high school, never held an honest jobーat least, not for long." She began listing and Mickey found himself gritting his teeth. "Then there's the neighbourhood you grew up inー Southside, right? Back then, you were the normal. Crime, drugs, all that thug shenanigans was considered typical, despite it being anything but. Then there's also the familial aspectsー"

"What, you gonna blame my pops on all this shit I've done?" Mickey interrupted.

"Yes." She simply stated.

"What, "sins of the father" and shit?"

"Your mother died when your sister was what? A few months old? Your father's had his run in with the law several times, too. A drunk. An abuser,"

 _A homophobic dickhead_ , Mickey mentally added.

"He's still incarcerated, if you were wondering."

"Wasn't."

"He broke probation like what, ten years ago? A bar fight, I heard."

"You hear what it was about?" Mickey asked, feeling his heart speed up and his chest tighten.

She cocked her head to the side knowingly, "Not a lot, but enough." Mickey hummed before she continued, "Your father's a bad man, Mikhailo."

"Mickey."

"And you gotta know the way you grew up was not your fault."

"I'm thirty fucking years old. Don't baby me." Mickey spat out.

"Times have changed."

"Oh yeah? What, you're all for babying old fucks like me?"

"We're all for supporting "old fucks" like you." She said, voice stern. "Look, Mikhailoー"

" _Mickey_."

"Mickey." She repeated. "You've had a rough start in life. In all of the years of your life, in fact. And I know that you think this is how it's supposed to beー you being destined for _fuck all_ ーbut it doesn't have to be this way anymore."

"The fuck, you some kind of shrink? Miss "Know-It-All"?"

"No, just your case worker."

"Case worker?" Mickey's eyebrows twisted in confusion, "The fuck I need a case worker for? I don't even know your fucking name."

"Gail Johnson." She introduced calmly. "And you're not the first Southside kid I've worked with, so yeah, I "know-it-all". At least, I know enough about how it all goes down there."

"You Southside?"

"Born and raised."

Mickey swallowed. "S-So what? I'm 'spose to open up to you because we from the same neighbourhood? 'Spose to fucking tell you all my fears and dreams?" He said mockingly, but Gail just shook her head.

"Not fears, not dreams. Just want to know about the you of _now_. Who you are now." She said. "I don't give a damn about who you were or who you wanna be. That's all just talk. I just want to know about you right now. And if the you of right now wants the chance no one else ever gave you before."

"What fuckin' chance?"

"Well, that depends." She said, closing the file in front of her. She then stood up. "Do you want one or not?"

Mickey found himself staring at his hands as Gail made her way over to the other side of the table, by Mickey's flank. He felt her gaze on him for a moment before she turned to leave the room. Just as her hand gripped the doorknob, Mickey spoke.

"Why?"

"Why what?" She repeated.

"Why me?" He asked. "Aren't you just supposed to just give me my shit and kick me outta here? Make me go on my merry way and not give a shit about what the fuck happens to me out there?"

Gail sighed. "Yeah, if you served your sentence." That caused Mickey to turn in his chair. She elaborated, "Of all the inmates here that could've been kicked out of here because of overcrowding, you were chosen. What, you think we just put names in a hat and you were the lucky dip? We chose you, Mickey, because believe or not, you're one of the good guys here in a place full of bad ones."

"That makes no fuckin' sense." Mickey said, exasperated. Gail hummed in amusement.

"Then let me ask you this: why _not_?"

"Huh?"

"Why not you, Mickey? Why can't it be you? Why are you less deserving of a second chance than anyone else here?" She asked, eyebrow raised. She did not wait for Mickey to answer before opening the door and cocking her head to the side. "Enough chit chat. Let's get you outta here."

Mickey clenched his jaw before resolving to stand and follow Gail outside the room.

 _Because I'm me_ , Mickey begrudgingly thought.

*

Inside the car, Gail began driving away and it wasn't until the facility was out of his sight that the realisation settled in; after eight long years, he was free.

Mickey closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, willing his stomach to calm down as the urge to vomit rose. And the silence was irritable; made him feel like this whole situation wasn't real, so he opted to speak.

"Where are we going?"

"Heard you've been doing some handy work as a mechanic. Found you a job." Gail said.

"Oh, great."

"Conditions of your early release. But you already knew that, right?"

Mickey only grunted in response.

"So, got anywhere to live?"

"How the fuck should I know?" Mickey spat, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Any family?"

No response.

"You've got a wifeー"

" _Had_." Mickey corrected. "Bitch divorced me seven years ago."

"Couldn't handle you being in there?"

Mickey laughed, finally opening his eyes. "She could give two shits about me being in there. She's an illegal immigrant. Couldn't stay here 'cause even though she was married to a U.S citizen, it meant fuck all to the INS if he was in jail. So we got divorced. Assumed she married someone else or got the boot. Who the fuck knows. Never wanted to marry that whore anyway."

"Why did you get married then?"

Mickey wanted to give Gail shit for prying into his life beyond her file on him, but ultimately decided against it. It's not like it mattered if she knew or not anyway. "Baby." He answered, not wanting to go any further than that.

"You've got a kid?"

"Son. Yeah. He should be ten by now."

"Bet he'd like to see you."

"Bet not." He chuckled. "Kid probably doesn't even remember me. Haven't seen him in years." Mickey said, sounding more emotionless than anything. Gail eyed him warily before returning her eyes back onto the road.

"So you prefer to be the deadbeat dad?" And there was no spite in her voice. Mickey shrugged.

"Better than the sad fuck of a father I had."

"Siblings?" Gail switched topics.

"Four of them." _But you knew that too, right?_ Mickey mentally sighed.

"You know where they are?"

"Fuck if I know." _Dead, if anything._

"Partners?"

"What partners?"

Gail shrugged. "I don't know. Partners. Lovers. People you'd consider as family?"

"Why's it matter?"

"You don't have anyone you want to contact to let them know you're out?"

"What's it look like?" _No one. There's no one. No fucking one._

Gail sighed. "You can play the tough ghetto gangsta shit all you want, Mickey, but sooner or later you're gonna realise you can't do this on your own."

"Do what on my own?"

"Life."

"Wow, how fucking profound." Mickey said, exasperated.

"Look, you think it's all you, and you're right, it will be just you. In the end, it's all you. And like you've said, you're not a kid. You're thirty. You've made mistakes and now someone's given you the chance to change your life for the better. But I'm not going to be there to hold your hand. One chance. That's all I've got for you."

"You want me to say thanks?"

"I want you to _care_. I want you to want to take this opportunity."

"I'm in the fucking car, aren't I?"

"And when you step out, then what? What are you going to do? You gonna go on the rest of the way by yourself?"

"Fuck's wrong with that?"

"What isn't?" Gail said. And Mickey didn't realise the car had stopped moving until Gail removed the keys from the ignition. "Mickey, whoever did you wrong, didn't do what they were supposed to do, weren't being who they supposed to beーall that shit means nothing, it's all you. But there comes a point where you're just going to have to not trust others but trust _yourself_ to trust others. And to do that, you're gonna have to let people in. Let them help you so you _know_ who they are and who _you_ are as a person; do you trust yourself enough to trust someone else? People screw you overーthat's life. Ain't like you haven't done the same to others. But eventually, you'll come across someone who won't do that. And you won't do that to them. And they could be the one person that turns this chance into something more."

Mickey let those words sink in; it wasn't like he didn't want them to. But at the same time, he wasn't sure what to make of it.

He thought he had that someone.

Fuck, he thought _he_ was that someone. 

But fuck all if he was going to let Gail know. She knew too much; he wouldn't be surprised if she did know. 

"I ain't going around looking for some lifelong partner if that's what you're angling at." Mickey mumbled. 

"Didn't say you had to." Gail said. "I'm not expecting you to find someone to help you out. I'm just hoping you'll let people help if the opportunity arises. Don't push people away, even if they push you away." 

"How the fuck's that fair?" 

"Well, Mickey, let's not forget, you're a felon. Don't be surprised if that's a deal breaker for most." She stated. Mickey clicked his tongue. "But believe me, there will be someone willing to give you a chance. Who will look past your past and see you for who you are now. Hell, if anything, you've probably already met them." 

"Why are you acting like you give a shit?" Mickey asked. "So you're a case worker, fine, you found me a job. I don't need this Dr. Phil session." 

"Because I believe in you. I believe you'll make the most of this. Don't prove me wrong. Don't make me regret choosing you over the other screw-ups still in prison." She explained before getting out of the car. Mickey sat in his own thoughts for a moment before following Gail outside. 

She lead him inside what seemed to be a mechanic's garage. 

*

"Mickey Milkovich, this is Charlie Peters. Charlie, Mickey." Gail introduced. A man who seemed to be in his late forties with thick rimmed glasses and an array of tattoos splayed across whatever skin that wasn't covered extended his hand out for Mickey to shake. Mickey reluctantly obliged. 

"Don't really do attempted murderersーmore of an alcoholics and drug addicts kind of guy." Charlie said, side-eyeing Gail before staring back at Mickey. "But for Gail, I'm willing to make an exception. Says you're good with your hands, for a criminal." 

"Charlie used to own Patsy's a few blocks down but it's been shut down a couple years. Hence, the mechanic store." Gail explained. Charlie shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. God, this man towered over Mickey like some kind of statue. 

"It was a shithole, no doubt. It was just a matter of time, really." 

Mickey vaguely remembered Patsy's Pies. Never really dined there. Andー 

And  _he_ used to work there. 

"So I don't have to worry about you showing up to work drunk or high, right?" Charlie asked, voice hardening from when it just had been soft. 

"No, sir." Mickey mused. 

"Not gonna kill anyone here either, I assume?"

"I didn't kill anyone." 

"Right." Charlie said. "Almost." 

"Bitch came at me with a gun. Started shooting at me in broad daylight." And Mickey wasn't even sure why he was telling them this. 

"Samantha Slott, was it?" Gail recalled. "She's the one who claimed you tried to kill her." 

 _Fucking had it coming,_ Mickey managed to keep in his mind. 

"So she tried to kill you, is that it?" Charlie pieced. Mickey's eyes averting to the ground gave Charlie enough of an answer. "Well, you've served your time; at least more than half. Deemed worthy of an early release; overcrowding, but still. Seem harmless enough." 

"Yeah, "fuck u-up" tattoo _screams_ safety, right?" Mickey said sarcastically. Charlie actually laughed. 

"We all make mistakes." Charlie shrugged. "Gail also told me you're out of a place." 

Mickey shot Gail a glareー _fuck she asked all those questions for if she already knew the answer?_ Gail only raised her eyebrow knowingly at Mickey. 

"What else did  _Gail_ fucking say?" 

"Nothing that no one else wouldn't know. I'm not here to pry. Just here to give you a job." 

"A chance." Gail reiterated. Mickey had to roll his eyes. 

"And, I guess, board. There's a room available upstairs. You work here nine to five full-time, get paid half of the usual rate and board is yours. I'll decide if you can work weekendsーpays all yours if you do." 

"Lucky you." Gail said, vaguely tauntingly. "A job, some cash _and_ a place." 

"No wagon for you to fall off but I still better not see you wracking up dangerous amounts of booze and illegal drugs. Those are  _my_ deal breakers. I don't give a shit if you're not an addict; drunk or high, you're out on your ass, you hear?" Charlie stated, pulling out a set of keys from his pocket, handing them over to Mickey. 

Mickey nodded, taking the keys. Charlie looked at Gail before back at Mickey. 

"Good." He said. "You start next Monday. Better not be late, 'specially if you're just living upstairs." 

"Yes sir."

*

It was a studioー well furnished and quaint. It all looked like a secondhand display, but everything was in better condition than all of the stuff in the shithole that was the Milkovich household. A television on top of a clothes drawer; small kitchen with a hotplate and mini fridge; oh the luxury of a kettle and microwave too. A bed on top of a shaggy red rug with two beside tables; a couch parallel to the television and a massive window that overlooked the garage's rooftop. Other than the front door and the bathroom door, there was another door far off the end of the studio that presumably lead to the said rooftop.

Mickey felt strangely content but the silence was unnerving. 

Until he heard the faint sirens of a police car.

Now it felt like home.


	2. Chapter 2

Yesterday didn't feel real. Mickey had barely slept at all. He wouldn't admit it to himself, but he was scared. Scared that all of that had been a dream and he wasn't out and it was just the years and years incarcerated finally doing a number on his sanity and he broke.

But as the shitty walls and the ceiling fan and the sun seeping through the blinds imprinted in his mind; it really did confirm that he was free.

He was out.

This was real.

Twisting in the sheets, he glanced at the digital alarm clockー seven forty-two. A Saturday, if he recalled right. And for the first time in a long time, he had nothing to do.

He wasn't sure if the store downstairs was openー at least, time wise for a Saturday, and even if it was, he wasn't sure if Charlie would let him work. He didn't really find a point in waiting to take a hold of the ropes before he was due to work, so he guessed asking the man wouldn't hurt.

But until then, Mickey had nothing to do.

Maybe a walk.

The showerー no better than his one back at homeー still deemed itself heavenly in Mickey's standards; the hot spray on his back soothed all the tense muscle and the fog cleared his mind. It was a solid half hour of pure bliss.

Stepping out however, threw him back into the reality of his situation. He caught a glimpse of himself in the crappy mirror that quickly turned into him staring.

The hard lines in his face.

The faded sea blue of his eyes.

The pale skin stretched over his bones and muscle.

The fucked up tattoo on his chest.

Fuck.

He brought his fingers up to touch the mangled mess; it had long since then healed but it still bore scars and another layer of hurt beyond the physical pain.

 _Ian Galeger_ , it said.

And Mickey couldn't help but laugh.

"Jesus fuck." He muttered, tracing the pads of his fingers over the scars of the tattoo. There were a lot of things he regret doing in his thirty years on this shithole of a planet, but this tattoo...

It takes the fucking cake.

And scratching it off didn't help.

It only spurred on the hurt he felt all those years ago.

It only showed the way he felt.

And the upside to being incarcerated with this fuck up on his chest was that there were little to no mirrors around to see it. Fuck all if he had to catch glimpses of this shit on a daily basis. Like he needed a reminder that the man he loved didn't feel the same way about him no more.

Mickey shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of Ian; the memory of that fiery redhead who fucked him _good_ and _hard_ and loved him just as much. The idiot who grinned like the sun was in his soul and fought like there was no tomorrow. Shit, Mickey would've married him in a heartbeat if they ever came to that.

They never did.

Probably not even close.

But the thoughts still linger.

_Will you? Wait?_

Mickey found himself gripping the edges of the ceramic sink, knuckles white and tight just like his chest as he reminisced the last time he saw Ian. And god, it still hurt; thinking about him. Even after all these years, that redheaded, alien-looking firecrotch still managed to damage his heartstrings. And Mickey, in retrospect, felt stupid. 

How could he have let himself fall in so deep with a kid down the street?

But fuck, it did feel  _good_ to love and be loved, even if it hurt so much right now. 

It probably would never stop hurting, in all honesty.

But that's okay.

Mickey believed that it's okay. 

He can live with this kind of hurt. 

* 

Mickey, after bringing himself out of the clouds of nostalgia, managed to finally do some snooping around his new shitty home. The drawers had a few clothes in; a tad bit bigger than himself and  _way_ out of his usual attire (he remembered what that was after years of wearing the same ugly shit of a jumpsuit) and threw it onー a dark crew neck and not-so-skinny skinny jeans. The bedside tables were empty but the kitchen pantry (albeit small) had a small glass bottle of instant coffee and sugar. The fridge had a few bottles of water and milk and Mickey had his breakfast sorted. 

The events following up to his release had been a blurー only fragments resurfaced as Mickey finished his cup of coffee and decided to check the pockets of his parker that he had draped over the armrest of the couch. He turned on the television for the sake of having something to listen to besides his own breathing. In the main pockets of his parker, he retrieved his phoneー dead, obviously, a set of keys (if memory served him, they were for the Milkovich shitholeー not like they ever used the keysー and also the car which he wasn't sure was even picked up from impound), a packet of Marlboro's (he couldn't find a lighter), two unused condoms (way past its expiry) and his wallet. 

He had eighty-six dollars still inside. A dollar of that's going to buy a new lighter. 

Looking outside the large panned window, the day looked promisingly warm. Mickey decided to ditch the parker and wear his hoodie over his shirt, pocketing his dead phone, wallet, apartment key and smokes in the back of his jeans. Throwing on his shoes and turning off all the appliances, he headed outside for his walk. 

The sun was nice against his skin. 

The air was shit with the smell of home. 

And soon his walk took him just there. 

The Milkovich shithole. 

Fuck, it still looked the same, just a little shittier. 

And Mickey smiled, unlocking the front gate. 

First, he thought about knocking. He had his hand balled into a fist just for that. But then he decided against it; why should he have to knock? Never did that before. And it shouldn't feel weird for himー this  _was_ his home. But there was an inkling in his stomach that made him believe that he was some kind of stranger now. 

Terry had always been gone for years at a time, but he always came home like he was never gone. Yeah. So Mickey shouldn't have to feel like he was a stranger. 

Except that he did. 

And it wasn't until the scenario presented itself did he realise whyー it's because he didn't tell anyone he was coming home. 

God, this was stupidー worrying about this. 

But he did. 

And his hand wrapped around the doorknob hesitated to do anymore than just hold it. 

Fuck fuck fuck. 

What should he say if his brothers were home?  _Doesn't sound like anyone's home_.

What would he do if he wasn't welcomed back?  _Fuck them then._

What could he do if he opens this door and it's locked?  _Go back to the apartment, asshole_. 

What will happen if he walks into a home that was no longer the Milkovich home?  _Leave_. 

Mickey stared at the door, hearing his heartbeat in his ears as the anxiety welled up inside him. And he hated this feeling, this helplessnessー it was so foreign to him. What the fuck was he so worried about? When did he give a shit about all these trivial things? 

Why was he so scared? 

"Fuck it." He muttered under his breath, turning the doorknob open. 

And it opened.

And no one was home.

And everything was just as he remembered. 

Just shittier. 

* 

Like a second skin, Mickey's first instinct was to not go to his room, but his little sister's. It was clear with all the open beer cans and the general  mess all around the place that his brothers still lived here. Other than the fact that he could tell the difference between a deserted home and a home being lived in, with one touch of a beer can (just on the verge of being warm), he could tell they'd been here in the last twenty-four hours. But his little sister? He was convinced she wasn't.

The last he heard of her was when she left for Indiana with that fuckhead of a boyfriend, Kenyatta. 

Another regretー probably the second worst he held just after the tattooー was letting his little sister leave with that abusive asshole. And it hurt again, the thought that she could very well be dead by now. 

He wouldn't know. 

He hated that he didn't know. 

_Jesus fucking Christ, Mandy._

And a part of him missed her more than Ian. 

It didn't look like it through the eyes of others, but they were close. They were the babies of the family. She would always care and worry about him in her own fucked up way the same way Mickey would always care and worry about her in his own fucked up way. She'd always be the one to visit his sorry ass whenever he landed himself in juvie. And a year into his sentence did he realise that he craved her visits more than Ian's. 

He blamed himself. 

He wished he could've done more for herー gave her more than enough of a reason to stay. 

Maybe then she would've visited him. And maybe now they'd be here, in this shithole called  _home_ , doing whatever the fuck they did. Everyone would know Mickey was out of jail ('cause God only knows that he wouldn't tell anyoneー clearly) and maybe everything could go back to normal. 

Of course it couldn't go back to the way it was, but some semblance of  _normal_ would be enough. 

Maybe Ian would be here. 

Maybe he could see his son. 

Maybe Mandy was married to a man who treated her right. 

Maybe he could be an uncle. 

Maybe maybe maybe. 

Or... 

Or maybe, Mandy was all of that. Just somewhere else. And with someone else. 

God, he hoped just as much. 

Mickey stared into her room, leaning against the door frame. He rarely ever visited her room but even he still saw how untouched it remained after all these years. It still looked like it belonged to a teenage dropout with the hopes and dreams of making it out of this place. She did, but not in the way she had hoped. It sure as fuck wasn't the way he had hoped either, but only the best is what he needed to believe in for him to make it through the night. 

He missed Mandy. A lot. 

Rubbing his face and pushing himself off the door frame, he walked down across the main living area and towards his room. He stared at the door. 

 _Stay the fuck out_ , it said.

That shit was still there. 

"Fuck." He sighed in disbelief before opening the door. 

And just like Mandy's room, it remained untouched.

Dusty. Dark. 

Untouched. 

It looked exactly like how he left it the last time he was in here.  

And the last time he was in here, eight years agoー 

Mickey willed himself to not remember. Instead, stepping through the threshold of his room, he searched for his phone charger. Still plugged into the power outlet, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He plugged it in and the screen lit up, notifying him that it was charging. He shouldn't be surprised, but he was, that it was still all working. 

As he waited for his phone to boot back up, he rummaged around his room for a bag. Getting some clothes would save him from having to buy new ones as well as wearing what he believed was Charlie's secondhand shit. He found an empty duffle (and by empty, he tipped out all the rubbish inside of it) and a backpack, filling both bags with whatever was still in the drawers. 

Most of his guns were gone, so maybe not  _completely_ untouched. He took one for good measure. Surely he still had his right to bear arms.

Turning around, he looked at his bedside tables. His heart also skipped a beat when he remembered what he had inside. And then his face flushed red at the thought of his brothers finding out what was  _inside_ those drawers. 

Sighing, he trudged over and knelt down, opening the last drawer of the bedside table. And there it wasー a black box. 

He took it out, feeling the contents inside of it move.

Another flush of embarrassment. 

_You wasted your dirty old man money to buy this shit?_

_Yeah. For when I'm working longer shifts._

_You're fucking nuts if you think I'm actually gonna use this. Any of this._

_Why? You prefer the real thing?_

Mickey cleared his throat, trying to let his body's heated temperature cool down. After a moment to himself, he stared back down at the boxー which was  _rather heavy_ _ー_ before placing it onto his bed. He then stood to sit by it, fingers moving gently to remove the lid. 

And he'd be lying if he didn't feel his cock twitch at the sight. 

* 

Mickey returned back to his apartment above the mechanics hours later than he intended. It was almost five (not like he'd like to admit he spent three of those hours with that black box of toysー in which he brought with him too) but he managed to do some light grocery shopping with the money he scavenged around the Milkovich household. 

He had just settled down into the couch, beer in hand and television on when there was a knock at the door. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by Charlie. 

"You're back." He said. Mickey just gestured at himself. "Come down stairs when you can." Charlie simply said before turning on his heel and heading downstairs to let Mickey do just that. 

Upon arriving downstairs, Mickey managed to intake the whole area more clearly and more properly. There were a couple of cars planted around the expanse of the garage; some where covered in sheets, others hoisted up to be worked on. 

He found Charlie sitting by a strangely placed dining table that angled in a way that overlooked the layout. Right next to him was a  _1967 Cadillac DeVille_ , pristine in all forms of the word. He had an array of neatly stacked papers, a laptop, and pen in one hand; a coffee mug in the other. He looked up, noticing Mickey and nodding with his head for the brunet to join him at the table. 

Mickey crossed over to sit across from Charlie who finished writing whatever he was writing before sipping his coffee. "You enjoy your first day of freedom?" 

Mickey shrugged, "Didn't miss out on too much." Charlie grunted. 

"On Saturdays, the kids work from ten to five. Sundays are ten to three. There's no pay for overtime so I try to get them to do the most they can." Charlie explained, pouring a cup for Mickey. 

"Kids?" 

"From Monday to Wednesday, it's just me and two apprentices working the shop. Two boys. High school drop-outs. Eager onesー talented. But they need more training." Charlie said, shrugging like he can't help it. He then continued, "Thursdays and Fridays, we've got two girls joining us in the store. One's a single motherー alcoholic. The other's also another high school drop-out." 

"Seems like you've got a type." Mickey quipped, sipping his coffee. Charlie huffed, amused. 

"Well, I get to pay them cheaper. And as much as they're in it for the money, they're also in it for the skills." Charlie closed his laptop, finally looking at Mickey. "But from what I've heard from Gail, it seems like you might just be the most experienced of them all, besides me, of course." 

"Had to do something, right?"  _I was in there for eight fuckin' years, after all._

"Yeah, well, I guess I'll be the judge of your skills, come Monday." Charlie looked at his watch. "Time to close up shop." He said, making a stand. He took a few steps towards the front of the garage before Mickey heard a low growl he was  _certain_ coming from Charlie. "A fucking straggler." He said, running a hand through his hair just as a car pulled into the garage. 

From his seated position, Mickey saw Charlie wave his hands as if to signal  _we're not open anymore_ to whomever thought it was a good fucking idea to rock up  _literall_ _y_ in the last minute. The car didn't stop and as it approached closer inside, Mickey stood. 

Underneath the bonnet of the jeep, smoke  _fumed_. 

"No, no, no. Back it out." Charlie demanded, sounding tired. The mangled roar of the engine settled into silence and out came a small blonde. Charlie sighed. "We're _closed_."

"No, you don't understand!" The blonde said and Mickey's chest immediately tightened. "I've got to get home, I  _need_ you to fix this  _now_." 

"Listen, sorry. But you're just going to have to-" 

"I've-I've got money!" She urged on, pulling out her wallet from her purse. "J-Just please! I really needー" 

Mickey, like a magnet, grew close to the source of the voice. And Charlie looked confused at the blonde who didn't finish her sentence upon catching sight of Mickey. 

Their eyesー blue on blueー locked on. And it was like time no longer existed. The horrid smell of the fucked up engine no longer mattered. The intimidating aura that was emitted from Charlie was no longer a threat. Nothing mattered except for this one moment. 

"Mickey?" She breathed out. 

"Mandy?" He whispered in response. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains homophobic slurs.

"Since when did you own a fucking jeep?" Mickey mumbled, lighting up the cigarette he kept between his lips. He leaned up against the couch's armrest.

Mandy, fresh from the shower, sat on Mickey's bed, a beer in hand. She wore his shirt and sweatsー both in which covered basically everything besides her head. She gave Mickey a dismissive look.

"No, asswipe. You first." She said, taking a sip. " Since when did you get out of jail? Thought you were sentenced fifteen years."

Mickey shrugged, inhaling the smoke deeply before forcing it out through his nose. "Overcrowding." And Mandy snorted at his answer.

"Lucky you." She mocked.

"Fuck you." He said. "Now you. Jeep? You steal that shit or got yourself a sugar daddy or something?"

Mandy cocked her head to the side slyly, "Or something. When did you get out?"

"Like, yesterday." He said. "When the fuck did you return to Chicago? Last I remember, you followed that fuckhead to Indiana." He spat out in disgust of the memory of Kenyatta. But Mandy gave Mickey a soft smile.

"Job." She simply said. And this time, Mickey snorted at her answer.

" _You_ have a job?" He asked, disbelievingly.

"Oh, shut up!" She whined. "You've got a fucking job, too."

"This shit was handed to me. Haven't even started." He explained. And Mandy just stared at her brother in a way Mickey wasn't used to. "The fuck you looking at?" 

Mandy shook her head, taking another sip. "Nothing. You look good, Mick. It's really good to see you." 

Mickey shrugged. "It's good to see you too." 

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were out?" 

"I've been out for a fuckin' day." 

"Yeah, and?"  _Does Ian know you're out_? She wanted to ask. But even she doesn't know where her Southside bestie's been up to. Wasn't sure if his number stayed the same. Wasn't sure if either he or Mickey wanted to see each other. She knew damn well if someone set up a meeting with Lip without her knowing, she'd be pissed. Mickey would probably be the same. 

"And what?" Mickey asked. "Not like it matters to anyone." 

Mandy huffed at her brother's sullen expression. She wasn't about to console himー it's not like she ever visited him in prison. Not one call, either. 

He was all alone but she believed he was okay. This was alright. Probably what he wanted.

So fucking stupid.  

"Hey." Mandy began softly, rolling herself off the bed. She placed her beer next to the alarm clock by the bedside table before shuffling over towards the kitchen counter. She retrieved her wallet out of her purse, pulling out what looks like a small piece of paper. She then walked over to Mickey, motioning him to sit on the couch properly. Begrudgingly, he obliged, sliding off the armrest and into the couch cushions as Mandy settles besides him. 

She hands him the piece of paper. A photo, actually. And he takes it, staring at it. 

"Who the fuck isー" 

Blue eyes. Blond hair. Toothy grin. 

No fuckin' way. 

"I think you know who this is." Mandy said, leaning her chin against Mickey's shoulder. "Cute, isn't he?" 

"Fuckin' big is what he is." Mickey breathed out in a hushed voice, and he wasn't sure why he sounded so weak. 

"He looks like you." She said, glancing up at her brother. His eyes did not leave the photo. "He's six here. He misses you. A lot." She adds. 

"Fuck off, he misses me." Mickey said sarcastically. He gave the photo back to Mandy, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Probably doesn't even remember me anymore, if he ever remembered me at all. Wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't know who I am."

"He does." She insisted, bumping her elbow against him. "You knew who he was." 

Mickey took another look at the photo in Mandy's hand. "He's my son." He finally said. _Of course I know it's him._  

He then cleared his throat, standing. He headed over towards the mini fridge to retrieve himself a beer. 

"Yeah, he is." Mandy assured, joining her brother where he leaned against the kitchen counter. She took the beer from his hands and opened it. 

"You've got your own fuckin' beer over there." Mickey said. 

"You wanna call him?" She asked, giving him back the beer after taking a swig. 

"And say what?" He took a drink. "And with what fuckin' number? Kid's ten years old, and already has a phone?" 

Mandy shook her head, flipping the photo to show Mickey the back of it. There, in a handwriting vaguely familiar, was a number. "No, but his mother does." 

"She's still here?" He asked, already knowing the answer. "Fuck she managed that?"  _Heard she got caught_. 

"Well," Mandy began, jumping back onto the bed to reach Mickey's phone that had been charging on the bedside table closest to the front door. "Why don't you call her and find out?" Mickey gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. Mandy took that as a hard no. "Time's have changed, Mick." She started to persuade, "I think she'd want to see the father of her childー her husbandー again." 

"Ex-husband." Mickey corrected. Mandy rolled her eyes, as if  _ex_ mattered. 

"You know why she did what she did, right?" Mandy stated, rather than asked. And Mickey did know why. He vividly remembered her visiting him in jailー of course, he had been reluctant to see her at allー but then again, he figured she's the only one who'd ever visit him out of her own will. 

_We need divorce now or I get sent back to Russia. I can not get a visa with your Ukrainian ass in here._

He kind of pieced together that she had someone else to keep her ass in the states, but it's been years since then. He could only guess she got caught or managed to get a visa. The latter was now obvious. And with Ian and Mandy both gone, Svetlana and the kid was the only thing he had left of a  _family_. Until it wasn't. Maybe she fell in love with whomever she married. Probably a better spouse to her than he was. 

Mickey had then decided he was done with that part of his life. Fifteen years wasn't enough years, especially with the concept of going home to no one. He did come home to no one. 

But now, Mandy was here. And she had his phone and Svetlana's number in her hands, urging Mickey to take it and  _call_. 

"I don't... Don't wanna fuck whatever life they've got." 

Mandy stared at Mickey before groaning _loudly_  in annoyance. "Stop fucking acting like you don't matter to anyone!" She growled, scrambling off the bed. Arms crossed, she stood in front of her brother with fire in her eyes. "Because you do! You don't think that because your fucking dumb ass didn't tell anyone you were coming out! So of course no one cares! 'Cause no one knows! And Svetlana told me you took her off your visitor's listー you took  _everyone off_ ー that's why no one visited you in jail, you sad sack of shit!" She said, hitting him. Mickey could only let her as he diverted his sight to the side.

Eventually Mandy calmed, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "I love you, Mick. You're a fucking twat of a brother, but I love you. And I... I would've visited you if I was even allowed to. Svetlana tried several times too. She told me she wanted you to see your son. The last time she tried was when it was Yevgeny's first day of kindergarten. She visited the day before then. Waited hours for visiting hours to only find out you took her name off the list." 

"You two talk a lot?" Mickey soon spoke after letting her words sink in. 

Mandy's shoulders slumped slightly. "Yeah." She said with a small smile. "We saw each other by chance. Yevgeny was six. She told me how he got into a fight at school. Reminded me a lot like you. Guess that's why I kept in contact with her. We weren't all that close but... she's the mother of my nephew, after all. And Yevgeny... He was all I had left of you. Of family." 

"You fucking sap." Mickey breathed out and Mandy laughed. "C'mere." He said, stretching his arms out. She huffed, falling into his embrace. They hugged tightly. 

"So you'll call?" Mandy asked after they parted. Mickey looked at her hand that still held his phone and the number. 

Guess it couldn't hurt. 

He'd already missed out on too much. 

* 

It was six-thirty the next morning when Mickey decided it was the right fucking time to call. Leaning against the rails of the rooftop terrace, he stared at the input number in his phone.  _Svet_ , the contact read. Her number was different from the one his phone had already which made Mickey wonder if  _all_ the numbers on his phone were still in service. 

He figured not. It's been eight years. His number's probably the only one that  _hasn't_ changed. 

He clicked on the call buttonー the dial tone indicating that it's going through. He then put the phone on speaker, not really wanting to hear her voice too close to his ear. 

One ring. 

Two. 

Three. 

Four.

Five.

He was about to just hang up just before the call connected and a small voice answered. " _Zdravstvuyte?_ " 

Mickey didn't need to understand what was being said to know that it was Yevgeny who picked up. And he was so stunnedー his son was speaking. And in Russian. And he knew how to pick up a phone. Fuck. Of  _course_ he knew how to do all of that. But it still amazed him. His son has grown up so much. So fucking much. He was barely a toddler the last Mickey saw him. 

Fuck.

"Z _dravstvuyte?_ " Yevgeny called out again. Mickey snapped out of it.

"Hello?" He replied. He rolled his eyes at himself at his lame ass response. 

" _Who is this?_ " Yevgeny tried in English, and  _shit_ his accent was as thick as his mother's. How was that possible? 

"Um, is Svetー is your mom there? This her phone right?" 

" _Um... Mother is sleeping. I wake her?_ " 

Mickey stared at his phone intently as his mind raced with how his son looked right now. Wondering what he was doing up so early at this time. How tall the little shit was. Probably not that tall, considering, but then again, Svetlana's quite tall. 

And then the prolonged silence prompted Mickey to reply, "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Can you go wake her? Please?" 

" _Okay_." Yevgeny said. Mickey heard Yev standー or what sounded like him getting up from whatever the fuck position he was in, and walking to where Mickey guessed Svetlana was. A moment later and faintly, he heard Yevgeny speak, " _Mama, yest' chelovek po telefonu s pros'boy o vas._ " 

" _Kotoryy seychas chas?_ " And yeah, that was Svetlana, alrightー her morning voice was just as he remembered. 

" _Six thirty-five._ " 

Mickey heard the phone being handed over and Svetlana yawning loudly, soon muttering, " _Kto zvonit tak rano?_   _Hello?_ "

"Svetlana?" Mickey tried. And he was certain she heard him but the moment of silence indicated otherwise. Just as he opened his mouth to speak once more, she started. 

" _You are out now_?" She said. Mickey found himself breathing out all his anxiety away. 

* 

"He is good boy." Svetlana said as soon as Mickey settled next to her on the bench of the local park. He had been ten minutes late (and it wasn't because he was nervous) but she didn't care to give him shit for it. She continued, "A little shit, but still, good boy."

"How the fuck does that make any sense?" Mickey said, sticking a cigarette in between his lips. He couldn't light it as Svetlana plucked it away almost immediately. "Hey, what the fuckー"

"He is a shit." She repeated, putting the cigarette between her lips, "Just like you." She pointed at the stick, signalling Mickey to light it up for her. He hesitates, but ends up doing it. Svetlana inhales the smoke deeply before exhaling upwards. "But a better version than you." She hands him back the cigarette.

"Heard he got into a fight." Mickey said, taking a drag. Svetlana snorted.

"Ah, yes. Your sister tells you this?"

"Just that." Mickey shrugged. "What happened?"

"Bullied. His name. They make fun of it. He come home crying, saying he wants to change his name. That he did not like his name. He gets shit on for it." She recalled, taking back the cigarette. He lets her, watching her smoke it as she stared off into the playground before them.

"What did you do?"

Svetlana's expression turned wicked. "I tell him to fuck them up."

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Svet." Mickey sighed. "How old was he when this happened?"

"He was in Kindergarten."

"Kinderー fucking five years old and you tell him to "fuck them up"? You fucking insane?" Mickey berated, trying to hide his smile from surfacing.

"Not like he listens to me. He is pussy, like you."

Mickey snatched the cigarette back from her. "Fuck off."

"But he listens when I tell him his father would have done that." She said, turning her head to look at Mickey. She still had that fierce look in her eyesー the same look she had every time she threatened him. But this time, it was under a different context.

And now Mickey noticed how it looked rather passionate instead of deadly.

"I tell Yevgeny his father does not take shit. He gives shit. He fights people who gives him shit. He is strong and brave and will step up against anyone who hurts him." She said, eyebrow raised as she spoke. "Of course, is bullshit, but he listens. I am woman, too soft. But he knows you areー _were_ in jail. Little shit thinks you are badass, when really, you are just a dumbfuck." 

Mickey rolled his eyes. He finishes the smoke and tosses it away after snuffing it out. He felt Svetlana's eyes still on him. Mickey sighed. "You tell him what I was in for?" 

Svetlana shrugged, "This and that. When he was younger, not really. Just the lie. But older, yes. When he was nine, he ask me why we never visit you anymore. Did not tell him you fucking took us off the list; instead, I tell him story about why you were in there. I tell him his father tried to kill woman who fucked up someone he loved." 

"What, you tell him it was you?" Mickey joked. Svetlana snorted. 

"No, he knows you are rainbow boy. Does not care." She said. "He still loves you even though he barely remembers you." 

"Still not convinced he's mine." And Mickey wasn't exactly sure why he said that. He heard Svetlana click her tongue. 

"You are violent." She began and Mickey finally returned her gaze. "You are a dumbfuck, violent faggot who would rather spend all day ass fucking with under aged orange boy than take care of wife and child. Cannot hold a real job and is alcoholic and junkie." 

"Your fuckin' point?" Mickey muttered. 

"You have shitty qualities. You are shitty person. Why would I tell everyone you are father of my child, then?" She asked, voice laced with poison. Mickey remained silent, understanding her point, and it wasn't until he felt her hand on his knee did it really sink in.

A little more softly, and with a small smile and kind eyes, she said, "You are father. He is your son. And you may have been shitty husband and shitty father, but you were a good one."

She leaned in and kissed Mickey on the cheek. "You want to see him?" She asked. He looked at her hand on his knee then back at her.

"Yeah." He finally said. 


	4. Chapter 4

Monday's were never fun for anyone, except for Mickey, it might just be. And as the rolling shutters locked down the garage for the night, Mickey never felt so sated in his life.

Maybe it was the prospect of working an honest job and earning honest money that made the beer at the end of the day so satisfying. He wasn't all too sure about how he felt about his life right now just yet.

Dinner consisted of a ready-made meal that just had to be heated in the microwaveー some gourmet looking shit Mickey could care less aboutー as the television showed reruns of _Game of Thrones_.

He settled comfortably on top of the couch, noting he should probably get himself a coffee table, when his phone buzzed alive.

He glanced in the direction of the deviceー it lied in the middle of his bed. It wasn't a call, just a mere text. It could wait until after he showered.

Mickey had been out for a total of four days. And in those four days, more events had happened that he never imagined happening; at least not for a couple of months, minimum.

And in those four days, he learned a lot.

About his sister. His son. His ex-wife.

More than he ever learnt before he was thrown into the can.

Mandy was loaded. If the jeep wasn't any indication (or the dress she wore when she came into the garage) her wallet was. Mickey may or may not have snooped around whilst she was in the showerー and although time has passed, looking through his sibling's shit was still something he felt entitled to.

He also learnt how she got her moneyー a "business" card for an escorting service. He wasn't about to confront her about itー she looked good. She looked well. She looked safe. She was all those things and so much more.

That's all Mickey wanted for her.

And as she bid Mickey farewell the morning after she "visited", it was just a goodbye for now. 

He knew and she did too that they'd see each other again very soon. 

Yevgeny was definitely his son. The kid had his eyes. His attitude. His height. He was small for his age but after his little stunt back in Kindergarten (one in which he secretly praised him for when Svetlana wasn't looking) he never settled for less than what he deserved.

Meaning, he'd fuck up anyone who gave him shit.

Svetlana sat on a nearby bench as Mickey joined Yevgeny on the other side of the playground where the little blond had been playing in the sandpit. The whole situation had been so surreal.

When Svetlana guided Mickey towards Yevgeny, he felt his heart skip a beat. His palms grew sweaty and his breath went shaky.

He was nervousー he wasn't sure why. But the urge to be a parent for once welled deep inside him, and he can only hope the kid, if he had any, had only good memories of him. Or none at all.

What he's been through... Hopefully it was nothing he ever recalled. 

 _I'm worried about you._  

Svetlana approached Yevgeny ahead of Mickey, kneeling down besides him, whispering softly. It wasn't like Mickey could understand, but in a way, he did. And when Yevgeny looked up at him with the biggest smile, it felt like all the pieces Mickey never knew were missing had filled.

Yevgeny had scrambled up onto his feet, almost tripping himself over as he raced to where Mickey had stood. And his arms wrapped themselves tightly around Mickey's stomach as he yelled, " _Dad!_ "

Mickey wasn't going to cry over this. He willed himself not to. Svetlana, on the other hand, got teary-eyed, and Mickey thought yeah, that was enough for the both of them. 

And as much as Yevgeny's been throughー the dysfunctional life he had as an infantー Svetlana's been through worse. 

 _Is_ still going through worse.

" _I marry Veronica. She keep me in the states. It was fine, but then not. We were together long enough for INS to get off my back but we separate a year later. Stayed married until I get visa, then that's it. We divorce._ _My visa will expire soon. Until then, I do my best for Yevgeny._ " 

She turned back to the job she had when she was imported here for a while. And the Mickey of eight years ago wouldn't give a rat's ass about it.

A job was a job. Money was money. 

But the Mickey of right now felt somewhat sorry. He felt sad for Svetlana. She... never really gave him a good first impression. And he was then dead set of keeping that first impression of her to his grave.

He never intended to change how he felt about her which was, well, it was mixture of things. But nothing good. Maybe tolerable at most, but that was it. But in all fairness, it wasn't like he gave her a more better first impression.

Bloodied. Bruised. Gay as fuck. 

The sanctity of marriage lost its meaning to Mickey the day he married Svetlana. And in a way, it did for her too.

Everything Mickey and Svetlana shared together was forced.  But this time... 

" _Where you staying at now?_ " Mickey had asked her. 

The knock on the front door of his apartment startled Mickey out of his thoughts. He jumped up to his feet, placing his metal plate of food on the couch before going to open the door. 

"Even after all these years, you still are a piece of shit." Svetlana said, hauling in two suitcases and a couple of dufflebags. 

"Told you I had work." Mickey said, reaching into the pocket of his sweats to retrieve his pack of cigarettes. He lit one up, inhaling deeply before helping Svetlana carry her suitcases all the way into the studio.

She rolled her eyes at him, throwing the duffles onto the couch. "Hey, fuck!" Mickey said, hearing the metal of his dinner crunch under the weight of the bags. 

"What, and you cannot even answer text message to help us carry this shit up stairs?" She said, going back outside. Yevgeny came inside, carrying an alarming amount of handbags. Svetlana had seemingly took some off him.

Once they were both inside and the door closed securely behind, Mickey found himself rolling his eyes. 

"The fuck you need all those bags for?" He asked, gesturing at the knock off designers. Svetlana sat herself down onto Mickey's bed whilst Yevgeny pulled off his shoes, stumbling a little. 

"They were gifts from customers." She said simply. "You have beer?" 

Mickey sighed, walking over towards the mini to retrieve a beer for Svetlana. She took to gratefully before her eyes scanned the apartment. With the new additions of her luggage (that Mickey stored right by the far end of the couch), the place looked even smaller.

But she didn't look with judgement in her eyes. Whatever shitholes she and the kid must've been living in; it made this place look like luxury. Mickey didn't want to ask. He didn't want to know. 

As he removed the duffles off the couch (and disposed of his dinner that surprisingly didn't spill everywhere), he sat on the edge of the couch's armrest, arms folded over his chest. Yevgeny had climbed up onto the middle of the bed and other than the sounds of the television, the atmosphere felt awkward. 

This was awkward. 

Everything had been forced. Mickey and Svetlana had done everything forcibly. 

 _This_ however was done under their own free will. 

Mickey didn't have to offer Svetlana and the kid a place to stay. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to have them here; he never got the chance to bring it up with Charlie today. But he did it anyway.

It, in a way, felt right. And as much as this seemed rushed, there was a pace here they set that clicked into place.

Mickey didn't really have any qualms about the thought of having Svetlana and Yevgeny crash with him just as Svetlana had no qualms about moving in. 

It seemed like she moved a lot. She didn't bring a lot of things; at least, it didn't seem like a lot of things in retrospect. She'd been in this country for what, a little over ten years now? And all she brought was two suitcases and a couple bags. Presumably her and Yev's shit combined.  

Mickey was inevitably getting soft. 

Or maybe it was Gail's words fucking around in his head. 

Whatever the reason for him changing the way he approached things in his life, it didn't matter. Maybe this was a good thing. He wasted enough time living with a grumpy shit attitude. He was getting too old to live like that.

"You guys eat yet?" He asked. 

*

The rest of the week went surprisingly smoothly to the point where it was rather uneventful. The most that had happen was when Yevgeny came home on a Wednesday afternoon saying he might have a girlfriend. Other than the light teasing from Mickey and the alarmingly  _mature_ advice from Svetlana, nothing else deemed itself newsworthy. 

Mickey told Charlie the day after Svetlana and Yevgeny moved in that they were staying upstairs with him. Charlie didn't seem all too suspicious about it; only asking the generic questions like " _Who are they to you?_ " and " _will they be paying board?_ "  in which Mickey replied, " _Ex-wife and kid_ ," and " _Sure._ " He had yet to tell Svetlana the second part of his conversation with Charlie. 

He had also met the other mechanics. The two apprentices (James and Elliot, he thinks their names were) were quite rowdy. They played a lot but were indeed hard, talented workers as Charlie described.

They still made simple mistakesー nothing too bad of a fuck-up, just a little annoying since Mickey found himself having to fix it most of the times. They didn't seem all too phased when Charlie told them that Mickey's an ex-con. 

" _That's fucking awesome!_ " They said. Mickey could only roll his eyes. 

When the other two female workers came in on a Thursday (Thera and Cateー or was it Grace? He'll remember it soon enough), they seemed more level headed and serious than the boys. It was a more calm environment; like they scared James and Elliot. Mickey found himself liking his Thursdays and Fridays already. 

He found himself in an easy conversation with Thera who was the single mother Charlie told him about. He wouldn't really know if he was classified as a  _single father_ if the mother was living with him too. But he was certain as fuck he and Svetlana weren't "back togehter".

But that wasn't really the part that got him into an easy conversation with her; it was the fact that she was an alcoholic. Or at least, a recovering alcoholic. 

Mickey used to drink a lot when things got rough.

 _Especially_ when things got rough.

He did like the occasional beer at the end of the day, but the day he went on a benderー that was bad. 

 _You can't drink him away, Mickey. It won't work_. 

" _Sometimes it's just easier to just lose yourself and want to forget._ " He remembered Thera telling him. " _But there's just some things in life that you need to remember. Even if it hurts. Even if they're bad. You shouldn't just drink it away._

 _Thoseー those shitty momentsー they're the ones you need to remember the most. Otherwise you'll forget how to deal with the pain. And one day, it'll be too hard, it'll be too painful and you just won't know how to fix it. You'll break and there's no way to come back from it_." 

" _You learn that from your AA meeting or some shit_?" He replied. She laughed at him, patting his knee in understanding. 

Eventually, the weekend came around and Mickey was uncharacteristically awake at the godawful hour of six a.m. 

He rose, neck stiff from sleeping on the couch for all of this week. Sitting up, he looked over to where Yevgeny and Svetlana were sleeping on the bed. They looked so peaceful.

It was strange for Mickey to see them like that. They were always awake or on their way out before Mickey got ready for work. This was the first time he'd seen them sleeping. 

It was peaceful. 

An hour or so later, the duo rose to Mickey's attempt at making breakfast. He wasn't a bad cook. No master chef either, but still, his food was borderline good. 

It wasn't until he set the last piece of bacon on the plate did he realise he needed a dining table and chairs. Not like there was any room to put it, but he still felt the need to have it.

Charlie had given him his paycheck for the week (turns out he wasn't going to work on the weekends just yet) saying that " _Usually, paychecks go out on Sundays, but since you're not alone anymore, figured I'd give yours on Fridays instead_." Mickey was grateful. 

"Is it alright if I take Yev out today?" Mickey asked rather shyly, sipping his coffee. He was leaning against the kitchen counter, looking over at Svetlana and Yevgeny eating their breakfast on the bed. 

He noted Yevgeny's eyes widen. Svetlana studied her son's reaction before looking over her shoulder at Mickey. "Where to?" 

"Just the mall. Get some shit for this place. Got paid yesterday." 

"You have enough money?" She asked. Mickey shrugged. 

"Not balling or anything. But yeah." 

Svetlana popped a piece of scrambled egg into her mouth, seeming to contemplate it. She then cocked her head to the side, making a non-committal sound. "I go with." 

Mickey parted his lips to protest before stopping himself. Svetlana eyed him curiously. He sighed. "Yeah, sure." 

She huffed, somewhat triumphantly. She turned to look at Yevgeny. "Poyti i chistit' zuby." Yevgeny shoved one last piece of bacon into his mouth before scrambling off the bed. 

"Hey, hey, hey, stop with the fucking Russian." Mickey said, eyebrows raised at Svetlana. Yevgeny had seemingly forced himself to halt. 

Svetlana clicked her tongue. "Go brush your teeth." She translated. Yevgeny looked at Mickey for approval and he just sighed. The little blond then skipped over to the bathroom. 

Once the door clicked shut behind Yev, Svetlana rose off the bed with the plates. She put them on the counter before standing right in front of Mickey. 

"Stop with your swearing and I stop with the Russian." She said. Mickey cocked his head to the side in a challenging way. 

"Fuck off." He said. She laughed lightly. 

*

Mickey never really went to the mall. He simply had no reason to. And once he stepped inside, he realised that besides his lack of having a reason to go to the mall, the amount of people crowding inside made the mall even more undesirable.

It was  _way_ too busy for his liking, but then again, it was expected of a Saturday. 

He grabbed onto Yevgeny's hand subconsciously to prevent the little blond from straying. He didn't notice the kid beam up at him. 

The three of them rode the escalator up to the second level; Mickey allowed himself to get dragged by Yevgeny and Svetlana towards the furniture shop. Wasn't like he knew where the place was to begin with besides  _knowing_ there must be one here in the mall. 

Thankfully, it wasn't as packed inside IKEA than it was outside. Mickey felt he could finally breathe. 

"We get dining table, coffee table, wardrobe, bed for Yevgeny _ー"_ Svetlana began but Mickey interrupted before she could continue.

"Hey, I got only couple hundred bucks."  Mickey said, letting Yevgeny go so the kid can roam around. 

She clicked her tongue. "Is okay. I help." She reached into her designer knock off, slyly flashing the wads of bills to Mickey. He scoffed. 

"Since when the _fuck_ did you have money?" He asked, careful to swear only in Svetlana's vicinity. 

"For rainy day." She replied. "Is money I keep just in case landlord kick us out and we need money for deposit for a new place." She tucked the notes back securely in her bag. 

"Svetlana." Mickey began just as she turned her back to him. She looked over her shoulder. Biting his lower lip, he shrugged. "Not gonna kick you out this time." He said.

Her expressionless face softened and she approached him. She slipped her arm around his and smiled. "Good. I cut your balls off if you do."

They roamed around the store with a shop assistant in tow as Svetlana did all the ordering of the furniture. She picked out good looking items that would put Charlie's shit to shame _ー_ managing to rack up a good deal as well.

Mickey, howvever, couldn't help but argue every time she chose something; sometimes he managed to persuade her that " _No, we don't need a fucking seven seater couch. The fuck we gonna put it?_ " and other times, he failed miserably, " _Don't know why we need an entertainment unit, but okay._ " 

Finally, they reached the bedding section for kids. In Mickey's mind, he tried to calculate not how much all this shit was going to cost (because Svetlana assured him she was going to foot the bill), but how everything's going to fucking fit. He figured some of Charlie's stock item stuff were going to have to go. 

"So, your son is ten, right?" The shop assistant David (what a generic name, Mickey thought), asked as he brought them to the section. 

"He is small but growing. Need a bed that will last long." Svetlana said. "But also need small since shithead husband will complain it won't fit." She nudged Mickey as she spoke. The shop assistant laughed.

Mickey wasn't bothered to correct her on that. He figured it would just be easier to play the role of  _husband and wife_ than to get judgemental looks or explain that " _yes, we were once (forcibly) married but my husband's gay and not interested in me and we got divorced because he was in jail and I couldn't get a visa, blah blah blah._ "

This kid was just a shop assistantーhe didn't need to know all that crap to help them pick out goddamned furniture. 

Plus, not only did the play the roles, they looked like it too with her arm linked around his the whole fucking time. 

"Well, might I suggest theー" 

"Mickey?"

Mickey felt his breath catch in his throat at the sound of his name as he and Svetlana slowly turned around. His heart stopped. 

It was Debbie fucking Gallagher. 

"Debbie." He breathed out.  _Fuck_ has she grown. And she had a little girl by her sideー probably a little younger than Yevgeny. Was that her kid? Jesus. 

Debbie slowly approached the two just as Yevgeny came up by Mickey's side. "Holy shit, it's really you." She said. 

"Please don't fuckin' cry." Mickey said lightly. Debbie chuckled, blinking back the tears. 

"I leave you two to catch up." Svetlana said, giving Debbie a small smile. The redhead returned it. "I look for bed for Yevgeny." She unlinked their arms before holding onto Yevgeny's hand and walking him over towards the shop assistant. 

"Whenー when did you get out?" She asked, tugging the little girl closer to her. 

"Uh, couple days ago? A week now?" He said. "Is that your kid?" He then asked, unable to keep that question back. 

"Oh! Oh yeah." Debbie said, bending down to pick up the little girl. "This is Franny.  _Frances_." She said. "Say hi, Franny." 

"Hello..." Franny shyly said. Mickey waved a little at her with a smile.

"How old is she?" 

"She's eight. Almost nine." 

"Jesus fucking Christ, Debs." 

"I know, I know." Debbie said. She put down Frances before running her hand through her hair. The kid was more of a redhead than she was. She kind of looked a lot like Ian. Debbie sighed, "A lot has happened these past couple years." 

"Yeah, no shit. Teen mom? Seriously? Never would've guessed." Mickey said. "You're what? Twenty now?" 

"Twenty-four, actually." She corrected. 

"Fuck." He breathed. "You look good, Debbie." 

Debbie's cheeks reddened. "You do too, Mick." She then cleared her throat. "So! So... what you guys doing here?" 

"Uh, Svetlana wanted to get some shit for the kid and our place." He informed, thumbing over his shoulder at where Svetlana and Yevgeny were. 

"Oh," Debbie said. "You guys, uh... together or something?" 

"I'm still gay if that's what you're wondering." Debbie laughed, causing Mickey to huff out in amusement. "Nah, we uh... Shit, I don't know. Lot's happened since I got released. Saw Mandy again by chance. Told me to " _reconnect_ " with my kid or some shit. One thing lead to another and now we're out fucking furniture shopping. But it ain't that bad, to be honest." 

"Wow. Never would've guess you'd be the type to go soft." She joked. Mickey shrugged. 

"Eight years in jail would do that to you, I guess." 

Debbie shifted on her feet. "I never said thank you." 

"Huh?" 

"And I never said sorry." She continued. Mickey was undoubtedly confused. 

"What for? The fuck you talking about?" He asked softly. 

"Thank you... for you know... Not ratting me out. I was an accomplice." Debbie began and slowly, the pieces fell into place about what she was talking about. "And I'm sorry that you took the fall for everything. That you took the rap for something we both did. You weren't even put on trial. Just sentenced." 

"The past is the past. Never blamed you for anything. It really was all just me though." Mickey said lowly. This was a really weird conversation for him to have in all honesty but he knew not to take it lightly.  

"Would you have turned me in?" She asked. "Like, if you went to trial and everything? Lessen your sentence?" And her eyes were full of fear of his answer. Mickey wasn't sure how to respond to a question like this. In a way, he felt insulted she would think that, but at the same time, he understood.

"Yeah, if I had've known you would've gotten knocked up, you bet your ass I would've turned you in." He joked, lightly tapping Debbie on shoulder. Her eyes grew watery but she wore a smile on her face. Mickey sighed. "Nah. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I did. 'sides, no point in draggin' you down. I thought, if anyone was gonna make it out of Southside, it'd be you." 

"Really?"

Mickey shrugged. "Yeah. You're one of the good ones. You're a good kid." 

Debbie clicked her tongue. "Don't know about that." But she still wore her smile. 

Svetlana had finally came back to them and Yevgeny laced his hand through Mickey's. "Daddy, we're done!" He said. 

"Yeah? That so?" He said, looking down at Yev. He nodded enthusiastically. 

"I go pay at the counter and then you buy Yev toys." Svetlana informed. 

"The fuck he needs toys for?" Mickey asked, internally glad that Svetlana came when she did. The conversation with Debbie was getting too heavy; Debbie also looked relieved. 

"You miss eight birthdays. You want to be father, yes? So you make up for the time you've missed." She said with an eyebrow arched before walking towards the front counter with the shop assistant. 

"Jesus fー okay. Whatever." He grumbled. He then swooped down to pick up Yev, hoisting him up against his waist. He looked over at Debbie who gave her a strange, somewhat  _doting_ smile. 

"Mickey Milkovich looking after his son." She stated. Mickey rolled his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded. "Times really have changed." 

"Yep." He said. "Hey, you busy?" 

Debbie's eyes slightly widened. "No, why?" 

"Your kid eat frozen yogurt or some shit?" 

Debbie smiled. 

After Svetlana paid, the five of them went down to the food court. Mickey got the kids ice-creams before they came across a small playground. Debbie and Mickey opted to sit and watch the kids play by the parent's benches as Svetlana used the rest of Mickey's money to buy "home essentials" (which somehow included her going into clothes storesー he was too tired to question her). 

They sat in companionable silence. They both knew how strange it was to be in this situationー the only real connection between them besides the whole "Sammi Incident" was Ian. But Ian was no longer a bridging factor, so in a way, this shouldn't be happening. There was no real reason for them to be hanging out.

But they were.

And it was nice. 

Debbie considered this as them being "friends" of some sort. Mickey probably thought the same thing. He was allowed to be friends with his ex-boyfriend's sister, right? They were both  parents, so there was that between them.  

"So, what're you doing out here?" Mickey began, digging his spoon into his ice-cream cup. 

"Christmas shopping, I guess." 

"It's fucking October." Mickey pointed out. 

"Can never be too early to start looking for gifts." Debbie said. 

"It's not even Halloween yet." He retorted.

"You'd be surprised. Some stores have already set up Christmas decorations." She informed. Mickey shook his head at the absurdity. 

She then looked at Mickey's profile with a question on the tip of her tongue. Mentally, she debated on whether or not she should ask it, but then again, this Mickey was different from the Mickey of eight years ago. Maybe asking this question wouldn't hurt. "So... um, on the topic of Halloween," 

"What about it?" 

"Most of us are going to be busy when it's  _actually_ Halloween, so we decided to have a party tonight." She began building up the question. "You know, nothing too fancy. Just a scary movie marathon. No trick or treating or anything since, well, it's  _technically_ not Halloween and we're all kind of getting too old for it." 

"Us?" Mickey asked despite knowing full well what she meant. 

"You know. Family and stuff. At the ol' Gallagher home." She said. "Was wondering if, you know, you would wanna join us? Svetlana and Yevgeny are welcomed too!" She added as an afterthought. 

Mickey turned his head to look at her. "Key word: family. I'm not family, kid." He said. _Not anymore, at least_. Debbie's shoulders slumped. "Thanks for the offer though. Sounds fun. But I think the furniture and shit's coming in later tonight and Svetlana'll be riding my ass if I don't help her out or some shit." 

"Yeah. Yeah okay."

"And I'm... Still figuring things out." Mickey continued. He didn't know why he was explaining this to Debbie, but at the same time, he felt like it was okay to. "You know, outta jail. Living with my ex-wife and kid. Seein' you. Things are kind of..." 

"Moving too fast?" She finished. He nodded. "I understand. I just thought I should ask because... well, you were family to us once. And... Ian... You may have just been dating him and all but you did a lot. Maybe even a lot more than we ever did for him. You helped him. You cared for him. You loved him. You did all that. And we love Ian. So it made us family. Made us care about you too."

Mickey breathed slowly out through his nose before pulling Debbie into a hugー one in which she was surprised to have but also reciprocated. 

It's all he could think about doing. He wasn't about to correct her. 

He wasn't going to tell her he still loved Ian. 

* 

The Gallagher house party was in full swing when Debbie and Frances arrived around six p.m. It was cool outside but the minute she stepped through the threshold, the warmth that was inside felt somewhat suffocating. It was a nice kind of warmth, though.

In the living room was Liam who was stuck with babysitting Amy and Gemmaー the television was showing some sort of spooky cartoon. Liam had his eyes on his phone with the twins preoccupied with arts and crafts on the coffee table. Debbie ushered Franny to join the girls before making her own way into the kitchen.

"Debs! You're here!" Fiona greeted before downing a shot. She looked like she was in a good mood.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late." Debbie said before hugging Fiona. Lip came by her side soon, offering her a drink. He wore a pirate patch over an eye. "Oh, spooky." She complimented.

"Just trying to get into the Halloween spirit!" Lip said, wiggling his fingers at her. She giggled.

Carl and his new boyfriend, Tyrell, sat on the stools across the kitchen counter, flipping coins and taking shots. She was a little surprised to see Tyrell come to a family gathering so soon even though he and Carl have been dating for like, a day.

Kev and Vee sat over by the dining table behind the boys, seeming to be in the middle of a game of poker. Both Fiona and Lip, after bringing more bottles of alcohol from the kitchen, walked back over towards the game. Debbie joined the four by sitting at the foot of the table.

"Heya, Debs." Kev said, putting down his cards.

"Where you been?" Vee asked, "Thought we'd have to start the marathon without you."

"Sorry," Debbie began, "I was at the mallー oh my god!" She gasped.

"Jesus, what?" Fiona said, shocked.

Debbie slammed her palms on the table in excitement, causing both Carl and Tyrell to swivel around on their chairs. "Fuck's up with you?" Carl mumbled.

"You will not believe who I saw at the mall today!" She said, and the way she said it had the whole kitchen's ears trained on her.

"Who'd you see?" Lip asked, just for the sake of asking. He looked at her like he was going to be disappointed with her answer.

"Mickey. Milkovich." Debbie enunciated after a pause.

And she received silence, but it wasn't for the lack of interest.

It was for the lack of words to say.

But Debbie waited. She knew the expressions they all wore were ones of shock. Safe to say that Lip didn't look at all disappointed.

Finally, Fiona spoke, "Mickey?" She questioned.

"Yes. Mickey." Debbie confirmed.

"Mickey Milkovich, youー you saw him _today_?"

"Yes!" Debbie nodded this time. "I saw himー he was in IKEA."

"The fuck was he doing in IKEA?" Lip asked before shaking his head, "Wait, never mind thatー the fuck's he doing outta jail?"

"He was released like, last week." Debbie informed. "Told me he was out on overcrowding."

"Overcrowding?" Fiona breathed out like it was the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard. "Jesus."

"Wasn't he sentenced fifteen years?" Lip asked.

"Yeah, he was. But I guess they let him out early since he served more than half his time." Debbie reasoned. Lip and Fiona nodded in understanding.

"Back to Lip's first question..." Kev interrupted, "What was Mickey fucking Milkovich doing at _IKEA_?"

"He was with Svetlana and Yevgeny." She recalled, oblivious to their reactions as she told her story. "They were out buyingー buying _furniture_. I don't know, it looked kind of domestic. It was a little weird."

" _Furniture_?" Fiona repeated. "With Svetlana and Yevgeny?"

"I didn't really wanna pry as to why they were together, but I don't know. Didn't look strained. Like they were happily married or something." Debbie shrugged.

"I thought Mickey was gay." Carl said, popping a chip into his mouth.

"And I thought you had a _girlfriend_!" Debbie snapped.

Carl made a non-committal sound, "Boyfriend now. Gettin' kinda serious." He nudged Tyrell.

"You've been dating him for like, two hours." Debbie said before turning to Tyrell, "No offence."

"None taken." Tyrell shrugged. Carl's lips tugged up a bit.

"Anyways, Mick and Lana?" Kev drove them back to the conversation.

"Said he saw Mandy too." Debbie recounted. "Told me that Mandy told him to keep in touch with Yevgeny, and now they're living together?"

"Mick and Mandy?" Fiona asked.

"No, Mick and Svetlana. And Yevgeny." Debbie corrected.

"Living together?"

"Yes, oh my god! Why is this such a hard thing for you to grasp!" Debbie sighed.

"IーI don't know!" Fiona said, exasperated. "Maybe because it's Mickey Milkovichー someone we thought we'd _never_ see again anytime soon."

"It's been _eight years_ , Fiona!" Debbie retorted. "And _you_ didn't see him, _I_ did!"

"See who?"

The new voice in the room caused everyone to turn towards the source. Ian was just coming down the stairs with his boyfriend, Trevor in tow. And if it wasn't for the conversation they were having right now, surely one (most likely Kev) would've commented on their sex hair.

But this wasn't really the time.

Debbie turned her head to look straight at Lip who sat directly across from her. He returned her gaze quickly before looking back at Ian. He scratched his eyebrow, "Uh, Debs... Debs saw Mickey today. At the mall."

"What?" Ian breathed out as his face fell.

"Uh, yeah. She said she saw Mickey at IKEA with Svetlana and Yevgeny." Lip explained.

"I thought..."

"Overcrowding." Fiona simply said. Ian bit his lower lip and nodded. "A week, apparently."

"A whole _week_?" Ian said.

And it was strange for outsiders, Tyrell and Trevor, to witness that the smallest of words between these Gallaghers held an entire conversation.

"What's going on?" Trevor whispered behind Ian.

"He asked about you, Ian." Debbie said softly.

"Yeah?"

"Said you were doing good. That you're an EMT. Been seeing someone. For a very long time now." Debbie said. "I invited him to come over here with Svetlana and Yev."

"You did _what_?" Fiona asked.

" _Relax_ , he's not coming." Debbie sighed. "We hung out. He's... He's a little different."

"Different how?" Kev asked.

"Nicer? More soft?"

Lip snorted. " _Mickey Milkovich_? _Soft_?"

Debbie snapped, "Yeah and he told me that's what happens when you're in jail all alone with no support for eight fucking years!" She stood up from her chair in rage. Everyone kept quiet. "Sorry," she breathed, sitting back down. "Look, he's... He's changed a lot."

"I don't doubt that." Fiona said, giving Debbie a small smile.

"He could've ratted me out, you know. All those years ago. I helped him with that whole thing with Sammi. I was an accomplice. But he didn't, so..." Debbie shrugged. "Don't act like he didn't matter to us. He didn't only just matter to Ian." She turned to look at her brother who still stood at the end of the stairs.

"Debs..." Lip sighed.

"You know when you first showed signs of bipolar, it was Mickey who refused to let you go to the hospital, Ian." Debbie began. "He wanted to take care of you at home with your family around. With him. Even though he didn't understand what it meant at the time, he wanted to look after you. Did you know that, Ian?"

The lack of expression on Ian's face indicated _no_.

"I was there. Fiona wanted to take you to a hospital but Mickey said no. " _We're taking care of him hereー you, me, us_." He said." Debbie recalled as if Mickey's words were imprinted in her brain. They were, actually.

Debbie had never seen someone so fiercely in love before. She wanted that, and she was sure everyone else in the room at that time did too.

Ian's eyes cast down before he took a few steps closer towards Debbie. "How... How'd he look? How was he?" He asked quietly.

Debbie seemed to have relaxed at Ian's question. She smiled a little. "Yeah, heー he looked good. Looked healthy. Happy. He looked a lot like a dad, to be honest." And Ian chuckled at that.

Trevor came to stand by Ian, looking at the redhead. "Is... Is Mickey your ex?" He asked.

Ian looked back at Trevor and smiled sadly. "Yeah."


	5. Chapter 5

"Here, play with my phone. Don't call or text anyone!" Mickey said as he picked up Yevgeny and sat him down on top of the kitchen bench before handing his son his phone. Yevgeny took it eagerly, already having a game to play in mind.

Mickey ran his hand through his hair before groaning at the mess in the studio. There was absolutely _no place_ for him to move freely. Svetlana had seemingly drowned in the packaging of the furniture.

It was clear with all the mess around that Mickey lost the argument to " _open one thing at a fucking time and assemble it first before opening another fucking box!_ " Svetlana was strongly opposed to it.

And now, she wasn't going to admit that he may have been right.

The only thing they managed to set up was the new three seater couch (a thing Mickey couldn't talk Svetlana out of buyingー at least it wasn't a seven seater) and Yevgeny's bedー which, by the fucking way, was a _bunk bed_.

Mickey was preoccupied when Svetlana chose the bunk, therefore he couldn't protest to it. It was pressed against the back wall, parallel to the bathroom and door to the roof deck.

It wasn't so much as a bunk bed than it was a bed hoisted up by four tiers with a fancy built in desk underneath.

Svetlana had said " _so Yevgeny has a place to study._ " _The kid's only ten years old_ , Mickey thought. _The fuck's he gonna study so much that he needs his own desk?_

Apparently their new dining table wasn't enough for Yevgeny to use like a normal fucking kid. That sat off pathetically to the side near the kitchen (not assembled, obviously).

The twin double bed was also hoisted up against the wall with the bed frame disassembled. Svetlana had purchased a new bed without Mickey knowing. He didn't want to know how much money she had on her at that point.

Charlie's couch, after a lot of bickering between Mickey and Svetlana, was moved outside onto the roof deck. There was a small shelter right near the entrance so rainy days weren't a problem. The problem was telling Charlie his indoor furniture was now _outside_.

The wardrobe that held the television on top was also outside too. Mickey's clothes (and whatever Charlie had inside) were scattered on the floor.

The whole scene before Mickey was an absolute nightmare. If he thought the Milkovich shithole was a mess...

"Help me with this!" Svetlana said, eyeing an instruction manual. It looked like she was trying to assemble the unnecessary entertainment unit.

"No, let's fucking fix the wardrobe first!" Mickey said, gesturing at his clothes.

"What is there to fix?" She questioned. "Just screw on doors and done."

"Then let's just fucking do that." He said, throwing her a can of beer. She caught it effortlessly, flicking the top of it three times before opening it. "Get back to that shit after we've fixed this shit."

"Fine."

The wardrobe was assembled in under ten minutes. Mickey shoved his clothes in one side of the wardrobe under the pretence of " _folding all that shit later_ " before he collected all the boxes and plastic. He put the packaging in the kitchen with Yevgeny.

Now it was a little more easier to move.

"Now we do this." Svetlana said, walking over towards the entertainment unit. Mickey obviously refused.

" _No_ ," He dragged, "Now, we fix the bed." He said.

"There is no room to assemble the bed yet." She said, sitting down onto the floor. The new mattress was jammed against the doorframe of the front door. Half of it was inside the studioー the other half out in the hallway.

"Jesus, yeah, no fucking shit, Svetlana!" He cursed. "Shove that next to the wardrobe and come help fix this shit."

"We cannot move there!" Svetlana shouted back. "Mattress is in the way!"

"You don't think I see the big fucking mattress keeping the front door open?" Mickey exasperated, gesturing wildly.

They knew that they were going to put the bed behind the front door, pressed into the corner of the studio in a way so that the foot of the bed faced the kitchen. But there were too many things out to move things around in an orderly fashion.

Svetlana huffed out in frustration, taking a deep swig of her beer. She then rose to her feet. "Okay, fine! We put old bed outside!"

"Jesus Christ, we can't keep putting everything outside!" Mickey whined.

"Yes we can!" Svetlana's voice went louder. "We put it outside!" She demanded.

"Oh my fucking God." Mickey sighed.

He ended up doing exactly what she asked.

*

It was around eleven p.m. when they finally finished fixing and rearranging all the furniture. There was a cluttered order to where everything was placed, and there was enough room to move. 

Behind the front door of the apartment was the queen sized bed, puzzled nicely in the corner of the studio with one of Charlie's bedside tables at the head of the bed (the other one was undoubtedly discarded outside on the roof deck). The downside to that was that the front door couldn't swing open one-eightyー a little over ninety degrees was a win in Mickey's books. 

A few feet from the foot of the bed was the dining table and three chairs. It was pressed against the kitchen counter; two chairs tucked under the side of the dining table, and one at the foot. There was a little room between the chair and the bed, so it wasn't a big issue. 

Parallel to the dining table across the kitchen was the wardrobe. Svetlana fixed hers and Mickey's clothes, noting that they need to buy hangers later. Mickey ended up bringing back the drawer from outside so that Yevgeny can put his clothes inside. 

That drawer was placed at the foot of Yevgeny's bunk in front of the large panned window. Mickey had to admit that Yevgeny's corner of the studio was rather cute; not that he'd say it out loud, of course. 

Parallel to Yevgeny's bed was the three seater couch. Mickey liked how more comfortable it was; couch sleeping wouldn't be so bad on his neck anymore. In front of the couch was the small coffee table and beyond that, next to the wardrobe, was the ridiculously hard-to-assemble entertainment unit. It was empty of course, save for the television that thank _fuck_ , Svetlana didn't want to replace (due to her lack of funds). 

It was cluttered, sure. But slowly, it felt a little like a home. 

Mickey retrieved himself a beer from the mini fridge before gazing over the layout. Svetlana and Yevgeny both slept on the queen since Yevgeny wasn't used to sleeping without his mother. 

Opening the beer, Mickey decided to go out onto the roof deck. It was no longer bare with the couch amongst other discarded shit outside. He sat on the couch, staring out into the darkness. The whole night scene felt serene to him, calming. He could get used to this. 

Mickey thought of nothing at first before his mind flooded with everything. 

Getting out of jail. 

Getting a job. 

Getting a place. 

Reuniting with Mandy. 

Seeing Svetlana. 

Reconnecting with Yevgeny. 

Catching up with Debbie.

So much has happened but at the same time, not a lot has changed. They were still the same people, just a little older. Just a little more adjusted. 

Of course, eight years ago, Mandy wasn't an escort. Svetlana was still his wife. Yevgeny didn't speak coherently. Debbie didn't have a kid. But Mickey knew better than to believe that everything would stay exactly how he remembered it would be when he went to jail. 

" _How's... How's Ian?_ " Mickey had asked Debbie. And he remembered the strange feeling he got when he said Ian's name. 

Debbie looked at Mickey like that was the  _last_ person Mickey wanted to know about, but still, she smiled. " _He's good. He's better. He takes his meds and all._ " 

" _Yeah?_ "

" _He's an EMT._ "

" _Really? How'd he get into that_ _?_ "

" _An ex-boyfriend... got him into it. He was a firefighter and all so..._ "

 _A firefighter?_ Mickey thought. _He sure did upgrade from me._

And as they were on the topic, Mickey couldn't stop himself from asking, " _So, is he, uh, you know...?_ "

Thankfully that had been enough for Debbie to understand. She tried her best to not look at Mickey with sympathetic eyes but at the same time, she knew they weren't kids anymore. " _Yeah. Yeah, um, his name is Trevor. He's a good guy. They've been dating for almost seven years now._ "

Mickey knew better than to ask if it was serious.

Looking through the contents of his phone, it was like it had stopped in time. The contacts were the same. The applications.

The text messages.

The last person he texted was Ian. Mickey chuckled at how far back it dated.

2016.

It was now 2024.

That looked so ridiculous, Mickey broke into hysterical laughter.

He wasted the good years of his life in jail. And Mickey liked to believe he didn't go to jail for nothing when all that had happened pointed to that. But there was really no point in dwelling in the past.

What's done is done.

Mickey's over it.

His eyes still lingered on the small screen with Ian's name at the top of his messages.

Maybe a little dwelling in the past wouldn't hurt.

He clicked open the messages.

There surprisingly weren't a lot of texts between them, but then again, they were practically glued at the hipー there was no need to text each other. And if they did need to come into contact with each other, they preferred to call.

Any excuse to hear each other's voice.

The texts that were there were things like "need eggs", "12:40", and "answer your phone." So completely mundane, so out of context, but Mickey understood what they meant. They both did.

Mickey's eyes then drifted to the little icon that had Ian's photo. He smiled small to himself, clicking the details option to inspect it closer. And despite how simple it was to do just that, somehow he managed to fuck it up.

He accidentally called Ian.

"Shit, fuck!" He muttered as his hands fumbled. His frantic movements caused him to spill his beer that he had so carefully balanced on the armrest of the couch onto his sweats, making Mickey curse and jump up from his seat.

In the short span of five seconds, it took Mickey a moment to realise that the phone was ringing.

The call was going through.

And before he could comprehend what was really happening, the call was picked up.

" _Mickey?_ " He faintly heard Ian say.

*

Despite it being a Sunday, Lip woke up early due to years of habit. He expected to walk down the old, familiar Gallagher stairs to an empty kitchen, but the smell of something sweet wafted into his senses. His heart immediately sunk at the scene before his eyes. 

"How long you been awake?" He asked, running his hand through his hair. He moved to sit on the stools whilst Ian flipped over pancake after pancake. 

"Just a couple of minutes," Ian said, not daring to look up at his brother. He heard Lip click his tongue. 

"Yeah?" Lip breathed, "Did you manage to make that stack of pancakes in a couple of minutes?" 

"Yep." 

"And that pile of bacon with scrambled eggs, too?" 

"Mhm." 

"I don't suppose you've got a cake baking down there, right?" Lip questioned. "How about some homemade juice and self grounded coffee?" 

" _Lip_." Ian urged. 

"Ian." Lip said just as firmly. He stared at his younger brother who was adamant on not returning his gaze. "It's... It's about Mickey, right?" 

"Nope." Ian said almost instantly. "Has nothing to do with him." 

"It's not even six a.m. yet." Lip informed. "Did you even sleep at all?"

Ian didn't reply. He just continued his task, trying to not seem phased by Lip's intense glare. 

"Jesus Christ, Ian." Lip sighed. "You know you can talk to me if there's something wrong."

"Nothing's wrong." Ian assured. "I promise."

"Then answer my question." Lip demanded. "Why are you up so early?"

"I'm making breakfast." The redhead replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. In a way, it was, and what was frustrating to Lip was that it was clear that Ian was aware and actively avoiding the real answers that he wanted to hear.

Lip learned a long time ago to not baby Ian. But he still couldn't help it, especially when he showed signs of manic behaviour. Each time was different, and no matter how many years he and the rest of the Gallaghers had grown accustomed to it, used to knowing the signs, there was still no getting used to dealing with this in a _correct way_.

There was no correct way. No instant cure. Sometimes, a rough approach was the way; other times, it could make things worse.

This was how Lip found it best.

"Ian," He began in a more gentle tone, "look at me at least."

Ian turned off the stove, placing his spatula down into the counter. He looked up at Lip somewhat reluctantly. Lip let out a steady breath through his nose before continuing, "Now honestly tell me that the reason you're up at five-thirty a.m. isn't because of what Debbie said. That it isn't because Mickey's out of jail and it's gotten you all wound up."

_He called me last night._

_We spoke for hours._

_About nothing._

_About everything._

_It was like we were in our teens again and that the years spent apart never existed._

_It felt good._

_It felt right._

_And I didn't sleep at all because of Mickey._

"It's not." Ian finally said, offering a weak smile. "Seriously. I'm fine, Lip. And I get that you think this is me... you know. But I'm fine, really." He picked up a cloud of scrambled egg and popped it into his mouth before fishing into his back pocket to bench his medication. "I'll take them in front of you if you want."

Lip looked at Ian, trying his best to not show that he knew Ian was lying. That, he managed to perfect over the years. "Okay." He lightly.

"Okay." Ian repeated. He then retrieved a plate from the cabinet, placing it in front of Lip. "Hungry?" 

*

Mickey woke up the next morning with a stiff neck.

He had fallen asleep on the couch outside.

Palming away the sleep from his eyes, he rolled around to only find out that there was a blanket over him. He then saw Svetlana sitting at the end of the couch, on the armrest, smoking.

"Fuck you doing out here?" Mickey groaned, willing himself to sit up.

"I ask you that." She replied, not even bothering to look at him.

"What time is it?" He asked, fishing around for his phone. After he found it on the ground, he realised it had died.

"Almost ten." She said. "You look after Yev today."

"Huh?"

"I go to work."

"Since when did you have a fuckin' job?" He mumbled, extending his hand out. Svetlana passed him her cigarette. He also now just realised she was dressed up. "Thought you stopped whoring around."

"I am not _whoring around_." Svetlana spat. "I go to meet client."

"A client? That's not whoring around?" Mickey asked incredulously before taking a drag. Svetlana fished into her bag to retrieve her phone. She then showed him her so called "client."

 _Oh_. Mickey mentally thought.

She had shown him an app called _sugardaddyz_.

Now he knew how she managed to buy all that furniture.

She stood up, taking back her cigarette. "You look after Yev today. You feed him. You play with him. You be father to him, okay." She stated rather than asked. And then she went back inside, not bothering to hear his answer.

Mickey let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch. It was a little damp from when he had spilt his beer, but not overly uncomfortable.

His mind then drifted to last night.

" _I don't think it's a good idea if we saw each other again._ " He remembered telling Ian.


	6. Chapter 6

Mickey felt a little weird when he returned back inside the studio to see that Svetlana's alresdy left and Yevgeny sitting on the couch watching television. 

It really was just him and the kid today. 

It wasn't like he was never alone with Yev before, but somehow this was different. Yevgeny was walking and talking and thinking and learning. 

He should really watch his mouth. 

"Mama said you're taking me out today?" Yevgeny said just as Mickey crossed over to the kitchen. 

Mickey rose his eyebrows, "Did she, now?" He asked, trying to hold back his irritation at Svetlana.  _Did she also tell you she ran me dry?_  

Yevgeny just shrugged, "Said so." He informed, eyes lingering on the cartoon before tearing away to look at Mickey. 

And he just noticed how damn blue his son's eyes were. 

His son. 

 _His_. 

Mickey grunted, opening the mini fridge with the intent to drink a beer, but he stopped himselfーwasn't really sure why. He closed the mini before turning back to look at Yevgeny whose gaze hadn't faltered. "Was there any place in mind that you wanted to go?" Mickey asked, tapping his tattooed fingers against the fridge. 

Of course the kid chooses the fuckin' zoo. 

*

Being with Yevgeny made Mickey realise just how many places he hasn't been to. And of course, the lack of parental love and the shitstorm of a neighbourhood he grew up in may have played a part in him being deprived of trips to the zoo, Mickey was quick to judge that he wasn't missing out on much.

Paying to see animals. What a joke.

He should've taken Yevgeny to a pet store, but then again the kid was old enough to understand what that meant, and fuck all if they were going to adopt a pet in an apartment as small as theirs.

So the zoo it was.

Rather than being fascinated by the animals he could just watch on National Geographic, he was more or less fascinated by how fascinated Yevgeny was.

The kid was beaming, a smile from ear to ear.

And Mickey was finding it hard to keep up with the ten year old.

"Daddy, look at that!" Yevgeny gasped at literally everything they walked passed. Mickey knew he had to be attentive, show interest and respond accordinglyー it's what dads do, right?

He walked close by Yev, following the kid like a pup, before Mickey had the impulse to pick up his son and settle him on his shoulders. Yevgeny was overjoyed, laughing as he hooked his legs under Mickey's pits.

"You see better, little man?" Mickey asked, holding Yevgeny's thighs securely.

"Yes, daddy!" Yevgeny giggled.

"Alright, lead the way." Mickey said and Yev gently placed a hand on Mickey's head to guide his dad to whatever attracted his sight.

This felt so strange to Mickey, the concept of him being fatherly, and a part of him felt regret that he wasn't as loving towards Yevgeny in the beginning. And he also felt regret that he was so stupid to have not thought about the consequences of his actions that landed him in jail eight years ago.

He regret missing out so much.

He missed out a lot of his son growing up.

Mickey bought Yev cotton candy as he walked around the zoo. As much as anything that wasn't human attracted Yevgeny, Mickey attracted humans.

Specifically, women.

They were either cooing and gossiping young adults, aweing at how cute Mickey and Yevgeny lookedー noting how he wasn't wearing a wedding ring and that their eyes were so nice and similar.

The other women whose eyes glued to Mickey were mothersー single mothers seemed to react the same way as the younger ladies and the married ones seem to berate Mickey for his... colourful knuckle tattoos.

In this position, Mickey couldn't help but show off his tattoos. But then again, he rather show them off than let his son fall off his shoulders.

Priorities, right?

And he was being a father now.

Taking judgmental shit was now part of his job as one, Mickey assumed.

As they made their way into the aquatic tunnel, Yevgeny leaned over, pressing his chest against the top of Mickey's head. Mickey stopped in front of a school of fish, letting Yev take in the sight.

But apparently, something else occupied the ten year old's mind.

"Daddy," Yevgeny began, "Do you like boys?"

Mickey almost choked on air. He looked around; luckily they weren't in ear shot of anyone else. "Why you askin' that?"

"Mama said you like boys." Yevgeny said nonchalantly.

"Oh, yeah?" Mickey sighed. "What else did mama tell you?"

"Just that you went to jail because you liked a boy." Yevgeny relayed. "Do people go to jail if they like boys?"

Mickey laughed at that. "Nah, lil man. Why, you like boys?"

He felt Yevgeny shake his head. "I have a girlfriend, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"If you don't go to jail for liking boys, why did mama say you went to jail because you liked one?" Yev asked, his hand subconsciously scratching Mickey's hand on his thigh.

Mickey stayed quiet for a moment, eyes tracking the array of fish swirling around in sync before disappearing out of sight. He shrugged then, "It's what I did for the boy I liked."

"Was the boy you liked uncle Ian?"

"Yeah." Mickey breathed out.

"You don't like him anymore?"

Mickey just shrugged again, thinking back to last night's phone call. He then lightly slapped Yevgeny's thigh, "C'mon," he said, a little more lighter as he changed subjects, "Let's get some real food to eat or your mama will think I'm not feedin' you properly."

*

Ian wasn't going to pretend that he was paying attention to the movie. His eyes weren't even glazed over in the direction of the televisionー if it weren't for the dimly lit living room full of people, it would've been obvious, but since it wasn't, no one noticed he kept his eyes trained on his little sister.

He kept his eyes on Debbie who cradled a sleepy Franny. He kept his eyes on the sister who claimed to have hung out with Mickey. He kept his eyes on the one person in the room who knew how he was.

How he looked.

How he sounded.

How he smelled.

"There's gonna be a time where this movie will eventually get old." Ian heard Trevor mumble to him, on the cusp of falling asleep.

It was almost midnight and the movie marathon had reached it's fourth. It was _The Conjuring_ , a movie Fiona insisted was one of the best modern movies of all time (despite being just over ten years old), therefore, it was a Halloween must.

Kev, Vee and the twins retired for the night, heading back home after the third movie with Liam heading back upstairs since he was too young when the movie came out to appreciate it now.

All that scattered the living room was Fiona and Lip on the couch, Debbie with Frances in her lap on the floor by the foot of the couch, Carl and Tyrell sprawled on the floor with blankets and pillows (since two grown men couldn't possibly fit on Carl's old bunk), and Ian on the large armchair by the window with Trevor comfortably on his lap.

"It's already old." Ian whispered back, earning a light chuckle from Trevor. Lightly, he ran his hand over Trevor's stomach. "If you're tired, go upstairs. I'll join you later."

"Mm," Was all he could muster, nodding off. "Is fine."

Ian slapped his thigh, "C'mon the movie just finished. It won't be rude if you leave now."

"Coming up soon?" Trevor asked, seemingly defeated.

"Yeah." Ian smiled, quickly kissing him before the said man stumbled up.

"Don't forget your meds." Trevor mumbled. Ian nodded.

"Trevor's going up now." Ian announced.

Lip had just turned on the light as the end credits rolled. "What, after all these years, you still can't stay past four movies?" He teased as everyone got up from their position to stretch.

"Yeah, maybe next year." Trevor said, trudging up the stairs.

"You said that last year!" Carl called out, rubbing his eyes awake.

"G'night losers." The brunet called.

"Night!" Everyone chorused back as Trevor finally disappeared upstairs.

"I'm kinda tired too." Tyrell yawned. Carl clicked his tongue.

"No, man. You gotta stay up." Carl pleaded. "Last year, I tied with Fiona on seven movies."

" _Seven movies?_ " Tyrell said incredulously under his breath.

"We gotta settle this once and for all." Fiona sang, walking over towards the kitchen.

"We gotta win," Carl said, stumbling up to his feet.

"Win what?" Tyrell asked. "What do we win?"

"Pride. And bragging rights."

"Jesus Christ, I gotta pee." Carl pulled Tyrell to his feet before he shuffled over to the kitchen toilet. Carl followed, joining Fiona in the kitchen.

"Hey, want me to take Franny up to your old room?" Lip offered, already reaching out to grab his niece.

"Could you please?" Debbie asked, pulling herself up to sit on the couch once her daughter was off her.

"Yeah, no worries." Lip said, cradling the little girl in his arms. "Let's get you tucked in, yeah?" He whispered to Franny who stirred in his arms. He soon disappeared upstairs.

"A drink?" Debbie soon asked Ian.

Ian shrugged. "Why not?" He said. "Hey Debs?"

"Yeah?"

Before Ian could ask her what was on his mind, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Seeing the caller ID, his heart dropped.

"Who's that?" Debbie asked, standing.

Ian stood as well, shooting Debbie a glance, "Sorry, I-I gotta take this. Hold on." He stammered out, walking straight outside the front door.

Debbie stood there, staring at where Ian was just a second ago before huffing to herself. She turned to join her siblings in the kitchen.

"Ian, you joining?" Fiona called out, taking out the eighth bowl of popcorn for the night from the microwave.

"He went outside. Someone was calling him." Debbie informed, retrieving a bottle of water for herself.

"Calling? It's almost midnight. Who could be calling him right now?" Fiona asked.

"Mickey?" Ian breathed out as soon as he answered the call. He stood barefoot in the front yard, hand slightly trembling as he held his phone close to his ear.

It was silent on the other line for a moment, and Ian grew fearful that this was a mishap.

But he could hear light breathing through the receiverー he almost stopped himself from breathing just to make sure.

Then finally, " _Uh... Ian?_ "

It definitely was Mickey. Ian felt like crying but instead, he just said, "Yeah, Mick?"

" _Sorry... Sorry, I um... I didn't mean to call. It was an accident._ " Mickey explained. " _I actually didn't expect this number to still be working_."

Ian breathed, "Ha, why wouldn't it be?"

" _I don't know... It's been eight years. Who keeps a number for eight fuckin' years?_ " Mickey joked.

Ian found himself chuckling at that. "Apparently I do?"

Mickey laughed a little. " _Yeah, yeah I guess you do._ "

Ian couldn't do anything to stop his heart from exploding in his chest. "How... How are you, Mick?"

" _Um... Good. Yeah. I'm good_." Mickey said. " _Look, Ian,_ "

"Mickey." The redhead quickly interrupted, knowing what Mickey's tone meant. But that's all he could muster. He didn't know what else to say. And the silence on the other side conjured up the thought that he was considering just hanging up on Ian.

He wouldn't know what to do if that happened.

" _It's, um, really nice to hear your voice_." Mickey finally spoke and Ian had to look up to prevent the tears from falling.

Ian sniffed, "Yeah, it's, it's nice to hear yours too." He said, weakly. "I miss you."

" _I... I miss you too_." Mickey replied, no louder than a whisper. " _But Ian, I didn't mean to call you. It was an accident_." He repeated.

"Yeah, yeah I know that." Ian said. "But since we're talkingー"

" _Can't_."

Ian wasn't sure he heard that right. Clearing his throat, he asked, "What are youーwhat?" 

" _Ian,  I can't... I can't talk to you. I'm sorry._ " 

"Why?" Ian didn't bother to mask the hurt in his voice. He heard Mickey sigh. 

" _Um, I just can't._ " 

"I don't understand." Said Ian. "You don't want to talk to me?" 

He heard Mickey grunt, " _No. No, I do. I do wanna talk to you, it's justー_ "

"Then why?" Ian just could not stop babbling. 

" _I can't, okay? Fuck. Ian. I justー_ " 

"Why can't you talk to me, you talked to Debbie?" Ian's voice rose a little frustrated. "Fuck, you hung out with her and everything, Mick."

It took Mickey a moment to respond, " _I wasn't in love with her._ " 

Now Ian didn't know what to say. 

" _Ian, um, as much as it's so fucking good to hear your voice right now, you, uh, you gotta understand that we can't just act like nothing's happened._ " 

Was this what Mickey was going on about? That Ian was pretending that eight fucking years hadn't separated them? "I'm not." The redhead said defensively. 

" _Ian, youー Jesus fuckin' Christー look. Just please understand that it's... hard. Okay, it's hard for me to talk to you._ " Mickey begged. " _Fuckin' on the verge of crying like a little bitch 'cause I miss you so fuckin' much, it hurts._ " 

"Mickey, Iー" Ian breathed out roughly, trying to gather his words.  _I want to talk to you_. "I wanna see you." He ended up saying. And then the words just kept flowing out after that. "I-I know it's been eight years, I do. And I'm s-so fuckin' sorry I didn'tー and, but I want you to know that I wish it didn't happen the way everything did and, and if I could go backー I just..."

" _Ian_." Mickey said softly. " _You broke up with me before I went to jail._ " He stated. " _You broke up with me again when I was in jail_.  _You don't think I wanna see you too? Fuck. You think I don't wanna change the last time you saw me? Fuckin' ugly jumpsuit and behind a glass window? Talkin' through a phone like I don't even got a right to hear your voice properly? You don't think I know how hard it wasー for the both of usー to end like that?_ " 

Now Ian was crying, tears streaming silently. 

" _Even if I didn't get fuckin' shot at and hauled off to jail, you still didn't want to be with me. And for a long fuckin' time I didn't understand._ " Mickey continued, voice trembling a bit. " _I didn't understand why you didn't wanna be with somebody who loved you. I loved you, Ian. A whole fuckin' lot. And fuckー you didn't want that._ " 

"Mickey." Was all Ian could say. 

" _Ian, I don't think it's a good idea if we saw each other again._ " He said and suddenly, Ian found it hard to breathe. Mickey continued on speaking but it didn't register in his mind. It was all just white noise. Nothing. In one ear, out the other. And before Ian could tune back into the conversation, the call had ended. 

He didn't realise he'd been standing outside for a near half hour with the memory of Mickey's voice in his ears. 

"Fuck." Ian gritted through his teeth. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck." 

"You okay?" 

Ian turned around to see Lip standing by the front door. "Huh?"

"Who was that?" Lip asked. Ian was grateful that it was dark outー Lip didn't noticed his eyes were red. 

"Oh, uh, no one. Nothing. Wrong number." Ian said, busying himself with his phone screen to avoid looking at Lip. He felt his brother's gaze on him, the one where he suspected Ian was anything but okay. 

"Movie's already started, man." Lip settled on saying, cocking his head inside. "Fuckin'  _Zombieland_." 

"Carl chose it?" Ian said. 

"Who else?" 

"I'll be there in a minute." Ian dismissed. Lip lingered a little before nodding and heading back inside. 

* 

Since Ian and Mickey's accidental phone call,  almost a month had passed. 

Lip checked his phone for the timeー twelve twenty-seven p.m. He was three minutes early, but then again, he preferred to be early than late. 

His eyes glanced around as he waited by a café, sitting outside with a coffee that was long gone cold by now. He was nervousー just a littleー and it was to be expected. But at the thought of the objective of this meeting, he calmed just a bit. 

 _Not for me, for him._ Lip reminded himself. 

And then he stood up from his seat immediately. 

"I should've asked you first if it was okay to call instead of just swiping your number off Ian's phone." Lip began, moving around the table to pull out a chair. 

"It's fine." Mandy said, hesitantly letting Lip tuck her chair in. 

"Yeah." Lip breathed, sitting back down across from her. "Yeah, I just didn't know who to go to for this. Normally, I'd go to your brother, but..." 

"But he's the cause." Mandy said, a little sadly. "What about Trevor?" 

"What, talk to the current boyfriend about the ex-boyfriend who's the cause of Ian's manic behaviour?" Lip questioned, eyebrow raised. Mandy nodded in understanding. 

"Yeah, that doesn't sound smart." Mandy agreed. "So what do we do?" 

"I have an idea," Lip began.


	7. Chapter 7

Lip was a smart man.

It was obvious that he was. He's a smart man brought up from the hood who rose beyond the expectations of society. 

He made something of himself and even though it was rare he received the support he needed to get through all of bullshit and crap dumped onto him, he made it. 

He got out of Southside. 

A lot of it was thanks to his little brother, Ian.

His best friend. His partner in crime. The one he went to when things got hard. 

Things got hard a lot, but Ian pulled him through. They helped each otherー it's what they've been doing since the day Ian was born. 

Ian meant a lot to Lip. Everything about him; his thoughts, his feelings, his lifeー they were important to him as much as aspects of his own life were important to Ian. Happiness, especially.

But as much as Ian's happiness meant the world to Lip, Lip knew that there was only ever one person in the world Ian can truly be happy with.

And it wasn't with Trevor.

Trevor was a nice guy. There was just no other way to say it. He was nice, caring, understanding and was the kind of guy everyone would want to bring home to meet the parents.

But in Lip's mind, he was no Mickey.

Of course, as Ian's older brother, he was happy with whoever Ian was happy with. And when Ian brought home Trevor, Lip was glad he had someone.

Did it look like love? It could have been. 

But Lip has seen Ian in love before, and they way he looked at Trevorー that wasn't it. 

Ian loves Trevor, but Lip was certain his brother wasn't in it.

Not in the way he was in it with Mickey. 

Lip never found himself liking the guyー liking Mickeyー especially at the start. The dirty kid from down the street wanted to pound the shit out of Ianー and not in a good way. He stole, he threatened, he bullied. He hurt anyone and anything for the sake of hurting them. 

He was no Trevor.

Mickey was relentless and for a long time, Lip wasn't sure what Ian saw in the youngest Milkovich brother. 

Someone who was as pure and innocent as Ian shouldn't have had to deal with the likes of Mickey Milkovich. 

But there was something and it wasn't until Fiona came to him one day, telling him that Ian was staying with Mickey when he showed signs of Bipolar, was when Lip realised. 

Mickey stole Ian's heart. 

Mickey threatened anyone who wanted to take Ian away. 

Mickey bullied anyone and everyone if it meant Ian got to be safe. 

Mickey hurt those who hurt Ian. 

Everything Mickey didー everything Mickey's doneー it was all for Ian. 

He did everything for Ian. 

His little brother. 

And Lip realised that no one would ever do the things Mickey's done for Ian. 

Trevor was nice. 

But he's not Mickey. 

Lip ordered another coffee and an iced tea for Mandy, bringing both drinks outside the cafe and setting it down on the table. He sat back down, cupping his hands around his drink as Mandy whispered a _thanks_. Lip just nodded in acknowledgement, finding it hard to look at Mandy in the eyes for too long. 

He grunted. "You look good, Mandy." 

Mandy looked up from where she'd been eyeing the ice in her cup, smiling a little. "You do too. 

"How've you been?" He asked, knowing damn well he shouldn't be. But Mandy didn't look like she was going to bailー at least, not this time. She made a non-committal noise. 

"Good. I've been good." She said, nodding. "You?" 

"Yeah." Lip breathed out. "Good. I'm good, too." 

"That's good." 

"Yeah."  

Mandy fiddled with the straw lodged in her ice tea before she straightened her back. "So, um, your thing. Your planー Mick and Ian?" 

"Right." Lip said, deciding it was better to skip the small talk and get to the roots of the meeting, "Yeah. Look, Ian's... He's been struggling." 

"Struggling how?" Mandy asked. "Struggling with his medication? Struggling with his... mania?" 

Lip shrugged, "He says he's taking his meds. Trevor's been keeping an eye on him and allー but you know, not _too_ much." 

"Don't want him thinking that we suspect something's wrong, huh?" Mandy deducted. Lip looked at her, agreeing. 

"I hate that we gotta baby him. He's not a baby. But at the same time, it's hard to not want to feel this way." Lip explained, taking a sip of his coffee. 

"I don't blame you," Mandy began, "I thought we had it under control at the time; he wanted to kill homophobic dicks down at the church with machine guns and grenades. He kept screwing Mick into the mattressー more than once every night. And I mean, _every_ night." Mandy huffed and Lip felt a little awkward, laughing nervously at that. Mandy continued, "He put a knife to Kenyatta then acted like nothing happened. Then there was... you know. The depression." 

"Yeah... Yeah Fiona told me about that. Wouldn't get outta bed and all." 

"It was toughー for all of us." Mandy stated. "But you know, Mick. He... He stayed. Didn't look like he ever wanted to leave." 

"Did you know Ian stole Yevgeny?" Lip asked. Mandy nodded once. 

"Heard about it. Also heard they almost broke upー you know.  _Before_ they actually did." 

"Fiona and Mickey went to visit Ian at the ward." Lip recalled, "And it didn't go well. I don't know. Maybe Mick got scared. Didn't wanna see Ian for a while. Ian thought it was over but... But you're right. Mickey didn't look like he wanted it to be over. Didn't look like he wanted to leave." 

They stayed quiet for a moment, basking in the memories of the past.

Mandy had left right before Ian's mania became out of Mickey's control, but that was the past. That was all that happened eight years ago. 

The Ian and Mickey of now were different. 

She wanted Lip to know that.

"Mickey's doing good." Mandy began, finally wracking up the courage to look at Lip. "He's doing  _really_ good. He may be stuck down Southside, but he's doing better than anyone expected him to do. He's got his own place, he's got a good job; he's making the best of everything." 

Lip had a feeling where this was going, but he stayed quiet. 

Mandy continued, "And I know that the way everything went downー eight years agoー who would ever want to associate themselves with him? "He got what he deserved", "This was just how it's supposed to be", "He's a criminal through and through"ー but that's not my brother. Not anymore. He did what he did for Ian. You know that, right?" 

Lip could only nod once. 

He remembered the time Mandy ran over Karen. 

Back then, she said she did it for him. She applied for colleges for him. 

She did everything for him.

And in a way, he could understandー Mickey did what he didー almost killing Sammiー for Ian. 

Both Mickey and Mandy had fallen in love. 

And their kind of love was the type to land them in jail or worseー that was how far they were willing to go. 

Risking the rest of their lives for a fucking Gallagher. 

Fuckin' Milkovichs. 

"Yeah, I do." Lip finally confirmed with words. 

"Ian's my best friend. He's my go-to-guy when... and I love him to death." Mandy said. "But Mickey... he's my brother. My family. We were never really close growing up but we knew what family meant. It may not make sense to you guys; we didn't have a  _Fiona_. We grew up not knowing what love was. I didn't know what it was. Mickey didn't know what it was. Not until I met you. And not until Mickey met Ian." 

She inhaled shakily before smiling a little. "You Gallagher brothersー you guys really fucked us up." 

Lip laughed, smiling too. "What good would us saying sorry now do?" 

"Not a lot." Mandy admitted. "But that's fine. We've moved on. And I think you have, too." 

"Ian's with Trevor now." Lip said, like he had a point to make. Just as Mandy was defending Mickey, Lip was inclined to defend Ian. 

"Then why aren't you talking to him about this?" Mandy asked. "I think you're trying too hard to shelter Trevor." 

Lip's face contorted in confusion, " _Trevor?_ Why would I shelter him?" 

Mandy shrugged a shoulder, taking a sip of her iced tea. "I think what you're doing now is dumping Ian on Mickey." 

"Okay, what the fuck do you meanー" 

"It's what you guys did in the past right?" Mandy interrupted. "You guys were too busy trying to get your own lives together, you couldn't very well look after Ian too; that's why Fiona allowed Ian to live with Mickey. It didn't matter to you guys where Ian wasー psych ward or down the streetー as long as he wasn't around home being a burden." 

Before Lip could retaliate, Mandy continued, voice a little louder. "Tell me, is Ian back home?" 

 _A week now, yeah_. Lip mentally answered. 

"Are you guys just telling Trevor it just "happens" from time to time?" 

 _He gets it though, they've been together for seven fuckin' years_. 

"Are you guys treating Ian like he's fragile cargo? Looking at him like he could snap your neck or break down any second?" 

"Okay, who the  _fuck_ are you?" Lip growled through clenched teeth. Mandy looked unfazed. 

"Ian's with Trevor. You've said that. And they've been together for  _years_ ," Mandy said. "But instead of going to Trevor about this, you come to me. You indirectly come to Mickey." 

And Lip wasn't sure what to say; the way Mandy had attacked had left him speechless. 

But then Mandy's expression softened. "I get it, though."

"Huh?" 

"I get why you think about going to Mickey instead of Trevor." Mandy explained. "It's because Mickey's the only one Ian's been with since the beginning. They were together since the start. They got through the middle together. And the end was just... I don't know, another beginning?"

"I'm scared Trevor will leave Ian." Lip confessed. "Ian's happy. Haven't seen him this happy sinceー" 

"Since my brother." Mandy finished. "Sounds ridiculous, right? My brother?" 

"He's not the best." Lip said. 

Mandy rose a brow. "But he's the best Ian's ever had." 

"Yeah." Lip admitted. "Mickey never gave up on Ian. Up until the very end, he believed that he and Ian would get through it." 

"I don't blame Ian for leaving Mickey." Mandy said. "Eight years is a long fuckin' time. It's been a long fuckin' time." Lip nodded. Mandy continued, "But what I do blame Ian forー I blame him for making Mickey believe that there was a happy ending for them both. Together. What they had... Mickey's never had that. And I'm scared that he never will." 

"What are you saying?" 

"I'm saying... I don't think Mickey believes there's anyone out there for him that isn't Ian." Mandy confessed. "If it isn't Ian, it's no one. It's probably why he's trying so hard to be civil with Svetlana and close with Yevgeny. His son is all he's got. He's thirty years old now. Where's he going to find love if it hasn't already been found?" 

"If it isn't Ian, it's no one." Lip repeated. Mandy nodded before reaching into her bag and retrieving a pen. She then began writing something down on the napkin. 

"I don't know what your plan was, but if it didn't include them meeting againー even if it's just one more timeー then it's not worth listening to." Mandy said, finishing up what she was writing. She then slid the napkin across the table, looking Lip in the eye sternly. "Don't get me wrong, Gallagher. This is for Mickey, not Ian." 

Lip looked down at the napkin. 

It read  _Peters' Mechanics_. 

"Mickey lives and works there." Mandy informed. "Don't let Ian fuck this up, Gallagher. We may have gotten out, but I remember my roots. I hope you haven't forgotten what happens when you screw over a Milkovich." 

Lip looked up from the napkin and smiled, "Gonna kick my ass _Milkovich Style_?" 

Mandy only rose a knowing eyebrow, smirking.

*

Trevor stared idly at the ceiling, mind foggy with heat that contrasted with the chilly air outside the window. A light sheet of sweat covered his bare body as he felt the lazy sucks of Ian's mouth against his neck.

It's been a week since Ian temporarily moved home.

He's been with Ian long enough to know what this meant.

And he was okay. He was okay with letting Ian go through the motions. Go through the episode. He wanted to be with Ian until Ian was Ian again.

No rush.

No pressure.

Just existing.

Trevor learnt a long time that even just being there when Ian wants him there and being gone when Ian wants him gone during these episodes was best.

He never tried to be overbearing or overly cautious; he knew what it felt like to be subjected to people being overly sensitive to him and he hated it. He hated when people were hyper aware of his transsexuality. And he knew Ian hated it when people were hyper aware of his Bipolar.

It made them feel like they weren't normal.

It made them feel like they didn't fit in.

The initial attraction they held for each other stemmed beyond that and unlocked something deeper. Something more intimate.

And in a way, they just _got it_.

They just clicked.

Trevor, even after all these years of getting to know Ianー getting to know his familyー never really understood why when Ian needs his family the most, they're rarely around.

As his boyfriend, Trevor just assumed it was his job to essentially deal with Ian. And as much as he was more than happy to do just that, it was like his family slowly disappeared through Ian's episodes.

He hated that.

It was like Ian was a burden to them when he became too much to handle.

"Feels good." Trevor mumbled, sleep threatening to take him. He brought up his hand to stroke the back of Ian's head, tugging gently at the strands.

"Can we go again?" Ian asked, kissing the new hickey he planted on Trevor's neck.

"Gonna pass out soon, man." Trevor said. "What time is it?"

"It's like, two." Ian replied, running his hand over Trevor's chest and abdomen. Trevor sighed sweetly at the feeling.

"You just got back from your shift."

"It's okay."

"I have work in like... Something hours."

"We'll be quick."

"We did it like... Three times already."

"Fourth's the charm." Ian licked a stripe up the nape of Trevor's neck before slotting his lips in with his boyfriend's. They kissed languidly; slowly and wetly with the obscene sounds filling the room. Once they parted, Trevor buried half of his face in the pillowー the other half against Ian's shoulder.

"Can I just suck your dick or something?" Trevor bargained. "I can't come anymore. My head feels dizzy."

"Working you out too hard?" Ian teased.

"Ha ha." Trevor said sardonically, pushing Ian flat on his back. Eyes closed like sleep was capturing him, Trevor went down on Ian, sucking the protruding hipbones before breathing in the tuft of curly red hair.

He then took Ian into his mouth.

The redhead let out a breathy moan, hands shooting down to Trevor's head. He laced his fingers through the soft brown locks, not tugging or forcing Trevor down, but just sitting thereー feeling the motion of Trevor setting his own pace.

Soon, Ian finished with a groan through gritted teethー hands pulling Trevor up into a filthy kiss. Trevor revelled in the kiss, chuckling a little as he felt Ian's come trickle down their cheeks.

"Thank you." Ian finally said, settling them both comfortably across the bed in each other's embrace. He held Trevor close to his chest, diving his nose against Trevor's scalp.

"I love you." Trevor said, drifting off to let sleep take him.

Ian could only hum in response.

*

Ian woke up later that morning to an empty bed. Rolling around to the edge of the bed, he reached out to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. The time read one fifty-two p.m.

The upside to this was that it meant Trevor was almost done at work and would be home soon.

The downside was that he slept through almost the entire day. His head was pounding and spinning when he got out of bed and dressed.

Heading down the stairs, he saw Carl at the dining table eating burnt toast. Ian eyed him suspiciously, walking over towards the fridge to get a bottle of water.

"Didn't know you were here." Ian soon commented. Carl nonchalantly scratched off the burnt parts of the toast.

"Heard you're living here again." Carl said.

"Temporarily." Ian explained. Carl hummed in acknowledgement.

"Heard only an hour ago from Lip. Said you've been here a week."

"Yeah." Ian wasn't sure where Carl was going with his statements. "Why, what's up?"

"Are you okay?" The younger Gallagher asked, finally looking up from his toast. Ian felt a little taken back.

"Yeah." Ian said. "I'm good, Carl."

"It's been the longest you've been home in years." Carl noted. "As in, because of this."

"I know."

"Is Trevor upstairs?"

"He's at work."

"Okay, cool."

Ian, after taking a drink, put the bottle back in the fridge. He then rounded over to join Carl at the table, sitting across from him. "Are you okay?" He asked.

Carl pushed the plate of burnt toast away before sighing. "Need your help."

"With?"

"I got boy troubles."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Carl shrugged. "I think I love Tyrell." He said, but he didn't look happy saying it.

"Okay." Ian processed. "Okay, that's a good thing, right?"

"It should be. But it isn't. He thinks I play too much and isn't taking me seriously."

"Wait, you told him you love him?" And Ian tried his best to not sound so shocked as to offend Carl. But Carl just rose his eyebrows.

"Well, yeah?" He said. "Was I not supposed to?"

One thing that never ceased to amaze Ian was Carl's inability to truly hide how he feels about someone. In a way, it was endearing and Carl has come a long way these past few yearsー coming out as bisexual and actually embracing himself for it. But in this case, Ian assumed this was a downfall.

"Well," Ian slowly began, "You've guys been dating for what? Almost a month?" He asked. Carl nodded. "Okay, well, maybe he's not taking you seriously because you guys haven't been together that long." He offered, but Carl's face only twisted in confusion. 

"How long was I supposed to wait then to tell him?" Carl asked. 

"I mean... I guess it depends," 

 Carl interrupted, "On what?" 

Ian nodded his head from side to side, formulating an answer, "On the person, I think." He said. "It varies. Some people take years to say it and I guess some people take just a month." 

"How long did it take for you to tell Trevor you love him?" 

"A while." Ian confessed. 

"How long is a "while"?" 

"A while." The redhead repeated. Carl sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. 

"Okay, then." Carl said. "How long did it take Mickey to tell you he loved you?" And it didn't seem like Carl was trying to take a stab at Ianー the younger Gallagher knew how to read situations over the years and he wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that Ian's shaken up over the news about Mickey. But then again, Carl was still Carl and he'd do what he can to get what he wants to know. 

Even if it meant being a little insensitive. 

"I remember I asked you and you never told me if you loved Mickey." Carl reminisced. Ian decided to shift the focus off him. 

"Years." Ian answered. "It took Mickey a few years to admit that he loved me. To tell me that he did." 

"And what did you do?" 

 _I broke up with him_. Ian mentally said. Luckily, Carl wanted to make the conversation back to focusing on him. 

"Are you saying that I should wait?" He asked. 

"What do you mean, wait?" Ian questioned. "What, like, wait to tell him you love him orー" 

"I mean,  _wait_ , as in, I have to wait for  _him_ to tell  _me_ how  _he_ feels." He enunciated.

"I guess." 

"How the  _fuck's_ that fair?" Carl's voice rose above a growl. "Why do I gotta sit around waiting for  _him_ to tell  _me_ how  _he_ feels when I already  _know_ how the fuck  _I_ feel about  _him?_ " He asked, teeth clenched. "Why the fuck aren't I the one in his position? Why can't I be the one that gets to be told that he loves me?" 

"Carl," Ian began. 

"No, fuck this!" Carl said, standing. He took a deep breath and relaxed, speaking a little more softly. "I don't know why I gotta wait to tell him something I already know. I know how I feel about him. And I want him to know. What if he's just waiting to see if I feel the same way and we're both just  _waiting_ until eventually we never say it? Does it really matter if I say it now or a year later?" 

Ian was taken back once again. Carlー  _his_ little brotherー had yet again amazed him. These were words he never expected the kid to say. Granted, he was now twenty-two, but this is Carl. 

Who knew how passionate he can be? 

It reminded Ian a little of Mickey. 

"No, I guess not." Ian assured. "I'll make you some real lunch." He offered, taking Carl's burnt piece of toast. 

*

"Whatever, just don't do it again." Mickey mumbled, grabbing James' rag and wiping the oil off his hands. 

"Yes,  _boss_." James cheekily replied, saluting the shorter man. Mickey threw the rag back at James' face. 

Mickey, in the past month, deemed himself worthy enough of working the weekend shifts down at the garage. At the time, Mickey was (secretly) thrilled to be able to occupy his entire week (not that he was using that as an excuse to excessively spend his paychecks on Svetlana), and the prospect of earning more on top of what he was originally getting was appealing. 

But then he remembered the apprentices. 

He wasn't told that both James and Elliot were working weekends. 

They weren't originally.

Until they heard Mickey was too. 

And now the garage was fully staffedー it was him, Charlie, James, Elliot, Thera and Cate (her name was Cate afterall). 

Somehow, he was stuck babysitting the boys. 

Also Yevgeny. 

Yevgeny sat on the bonnet of the car Mickey was working on, playing with his phone. Svetlana was off  _wooing_ her geriatric viagroid over up Northside, so in addition to looking after his baby, he had to look after another two  _grown_ babies. 

Mickey, after fixing the little mistake James was dumb enough to make, made his way over back to his own car, wiping his hands (now oil stained) on his overalls. "You doin' alright, little man?" He asked Yevgeny. The kid just nodded, eyes fixated on the small screen of the phone. "Mmm, okay. Let me know when you get hungry." 

"Okay." Yevgeny said. Just as Mickey knelt down to roll himself underneath the hoisted car, Yevgeny said, "Wait, dad. I'm hungry."

Mickey breathed through his nose. He stared at the bottom of the car before rolling back out and sitting up. He twisted his body and looked at Yev, "What'chu wanna eat?" 

"Oh, I could eat!" Elliot shouted, overhearing Mickey. 

"Me too!" James chipped in. 

"No, no, no," Charlie bellowed out from across the garage. He kept his eyes on the newspaper he was reading, "You've all still got twenty minutes till break." 

"It's a  _slow_ day _._ " Elliot said. "I wanna have lunch with Yev... Yev..." 

" _Yevgeny_." Thera said, removing her gloves before putting her hands on her hips. "And it's  _slow_ because  _you two_ aren't supposed to be working today! We're overstaffed!" 

"I want pizza." Yevgeny said, oblivious to the conversation around him. 

" _Oh,_ I  _love_ pizza!" James said, coming around to sit on Mickey's car by Yevgeny. "Charlie's shout!" 

"Yes! Oh, Charlie, you're the best!" Elliot ran across the garage, arms wide open to hug Charlie. Charlie quickly stood up from his chair, avoiding the hug, scowling. 

He then looked at his employees. And Yevgeny. 

He sighed. "I'm not paying you guys overtime then." He said, pulling out his phone. Both Elliot and James rejoiced with Thera and Cate rolling their eyes. 

"When did you  _ever_ pay us overtime?" Cate asked. 

"Never." Thera replied for Charlie, clasping her hand over Cate's shoulder. 

* 

After the shop closed up, Mickey and Yevgeny went back upstairs to their apartment. Svetlana was already inside, television on some movie.

"When the fuck did you get home?" Mickey asked, ushering Yevgeny towards the toilet. He had told the kid to go wash up before he ordered out. 

"Hour ago. Came in from the back." Svetlana said, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. She was flipping through some documents. Mickey grabbed a beer before sitting on the couch next to Svetlana. 

"What's that?" 

"Documents." 

"Yeah, I got that." Mickey rolled his eyes. "What kind?"

"Important documents." She added on. She heard Mickey sigh and she smiled to herself. "Marriage." 

" _Marriage?_ " Mickey repeated, leaning forward to look over Svetlana's shoulder. "Huh. Never really knew your last name." Mickey said as Svetlana filled out the papers. "Why you got so many of them?" 

"Is only three applications." Svetlana pointed out. Mickey leaned back against the couch. 

"You're gonna get married three times?" He asked incredulously. "You know that's illegal." 

"I  _know,_ you dumb fuck." Svetlana huffed, looking over her shoulder at Mickey. "These are for sugar daddies. I am wooing two of them, hoping one will ask for marriage." 

"You wanna marry a sugar daddy?" 

"Why not?" She asked. "They are rich. They are US citizens. They keep me in America." 

"Oh, so this is your, uh, visa shit." Mickey deducted. 

"And shit." Svetlana said. 

"You said  _two_ , why you got three?" Mickey questioned, leaning forward to pick up the unfilled out marriage application. 

"Just in case it doesn't work out." She took back the application. "I have not told them about Yevgeny." 

"Oh." Mickey said just as the kid emerged from the bathroom. Svetlana gave Mickey a glare that said  _keep quiet_ which Mickey just rolled his eyes at. "Hey, kiddo." He said as Yevgeny climbed onto the couch. "What do you wanna eat?" 

"Pizza." Yevgeny quickly replied. 

"We already had that today." 

"I want it again." 

"You feed Yevgeny junk?" Svetlana asked, her face and aura emitting a deadly vibe. 

"He's ten, he'll live." Mickey sighed. "Your mom never let you eat that shit before?" Yevgeny shook his head. "Makes sense." 

"No pizza." Svetlana said. "I cook." 

"What, mac and cheese again?" 

"We go shopping tomorrow!" Svetlana declared, gathering her papers and standing up. 

"It's  _Monday_ tomorrow. Kid has school. I got work!" He shouted back as Svetlana shoved the papers in a handbag before storming off to the kitchen. 

"We go at night!" 

"Jesus Christ." Mickey groaned. He then looked at Yevgeny. "Want a beer?" 

Svetlana immediately glared at him from the kitchen. Mickey put his hands up.

"Kidding." He muttered, taking a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

Mickey never really understood the meaning of Thanksgiving. 

It wasn't until he finished work and the three of them went to the grocery store (borrowing one of Charlie's cars to get there) did he realise how close the holiday neared. 

He knew what it was, or at least, grabbed the concept of it, but never really knew enough to know what it meant. 

The Milkovichs, amongst most things, never celebrated it or really anything in all honesty. 

Of course, there were some occasions where it'd be Mandy's first birthday as an official teenagerー or when one of the brothers got out of jail where celebrations ensued. 

But mostly, it was an obvious ploy to get shitfaced drunk. 

There weren't really meaningful until eventually, those days were just  _days_. 

Mickey could tell that Svetlana felt a little off looking at all the specials on Thanksgiving items; maybe she also was the same as himー so completely void of it. 

But if she was once married to Veronica and whatever the fuck arrangement they had going on back then, she must've celebrated it once or twice. 

 _It was fine, but then not_. 

Like marriage, Thanksgiving probably lost it's meaning to her too. 

But the kid... 

"Dad, can we get a turkey?" Yevgeny asked, pointing towards the meat section. "It's almost Thanksgiving." 

"How are we going to cook it with no oven?" Svetlana said, looking at Mickey. Mickey just shrugged. 

For a small apartment and the lack of fridge space, they managed to pick out pantry stored items and ready cook meals but  _somehow,_ the shopping cart that Mickey was tasked with pushing, almost met full capacity. Luckily, they had a car, but that meant  _nothing_ if they can't store everything in their small kitchen. 

"It won't fit in our fridge, kiddo." Mickey said, backing Svetlana. 

"Yeah, that's because there's only ever beer, water, milk and juice inside." Yevgeny muttered, clearly disappointed about the lack of turkey they wont be getting. 

"I buy bigger fridge?" Svetlana asked, eyebrow raised as she looked for Mickey's approval. 

He shook his head, "Yeah? And where we gonna put it?" He asked. 

"We find space, don't worry." Svetlana assured. 

"Are we buying a fridge now?" Yevgeny questioned, eyes wide with hope. 

"Fuck no." Mickey said. Those eyes saddened quickly. 

"We buy on weekend when your father is less pissy." Svetlana said, pulling the small boy closer to her, ruffling his hair. 

"I'm not pissy," Mickey defended. "There's just no room." 

"I make room." Svetlana declared, a challenging spark in her eyes. 

"Or we could just find a bigger place." And when the words came out of his mouth, he wanted to take it back. 

It wasn't because he regret saying them; it was the committment behind it. 

Wherever he went, he found himself wanting to bring both Svetlana and Yevgeny with him. 

Especially Yevgeny. 

"Hm?" Svetlana hummed, trying not to look too interested in Mickey's proposal.  "A bigger place? You can afford?" 

Mickey's mouth had a mind of its own as he said, "Not any time soon... if I keep working weekends, then sure. Maybe. I don't know." 

"I can get my own room?" Yevgeny asked, abandoning his mother's side to stand excitedly in front of Mickey. 

And the way Yev looked up at him; eyes as blue as his own, no way could Mickey say anything besides, "Yeah. Sure thing." 

"Hm..." Svetlana hummed again, a small smile on her lips. Mickey felt a little awkward as Yevgeny wrapped his arms around his waist in a tight hug. 

"Go... Go pick out a turkey, kid." Mickey said, patting Yevgeny's hair. 

"I thought there's no room in the fridge?" The kid asked. 

"We'll make room." Mickey assured. Yevgeny didn't have to be told twice before he ran down over towards the meat section of the grocery store. "Never seen someone so excited to pick out a fuckin' turkey." 

Svetlana strode over to Mickey's side, "And how are we going to cook it?" 

"We'll use the kitchen downstairs in the store." Mickey said, now most definitely not looking at his ex-wife. 

"Your boss won't care?" 

"Won't care if he doesn't know." Mickey shrugged. "Besides, I don't think it's a crime to cook turkey." 

"Huh." Svetlana said. "And a bigger place, hm?" She made a point of leaning over the shopping cart to look Mickey in the eye. 

"Whatever. If you want." He mumbled. "Can you stop staring at me like that?" 

Svetlana stared at Mickey for another few seconds before walking away towards Yevgeny, "I want." 

"Wait, Svetlana." He called out. She turned to look over her shoulder, giving him a quizzical look. "Your, um,  _thing._ " 

"What thing?" 

"Are you really gonna marry a... one of your rich cunts?" He asked. Svetlana shifted on her feet, turning her body to look at Mickey properly. 

"Why, are you jealous?" She asked, cheekily. 

"Of who?" Mickey asked incredulously. 

"Of me." She teased. Mickey rolled his eyes. 

"Fuck off." He swore, almost lifting his hand to flip her off as well. 

Svetlana then looked like she was in deep thought. "Why you ask?" 

Mickey's eyebrow quirked up a little, struggling to find the wordsー struggling to find the words to tell Svetlana that he wondered  _what would happen if she got married and left?_   _What would happen to him and Yevgeny? And their relationship? And all the shit back... back at home. What would happen then?_

And it was in that single moment where Svetlana pieced everything inside his head. 

"I don't know." She finally said. "What happens, happens. We will see." She approached Mickey, linking their arms together before making a move to push the shopping cart with him. "We get turkey now." 

* 

Ian sat on the stool by the kitchen counter top, thrumming his fingers idly against the bench. He watched the slight sway Trevor had as he hummed quietly to himself whilst washing the dishes. Fiona sat on the dining table behind him, browsing the internet on her laptop. 

"So, you boys spending Thanksgiving here, or are you two gonna be  _preoccupied_ like last year?" Fiona asked, voice a little mischievous. Trevor laughed a little as Ian turned around in his stool to look at his sister. 

"No, we'll be here this time." Trevor assured. Fiona looked at Ian with a raised eyebrow. 

"Promise." Ian backed up, crossing his fingers to exemplify his and Trevor's words. 

"You guys are welcomed to stay until then if you want." She said, looking back onto her laptop. 

"You bringing someone?" Trevor asked as he finished washing the dishes. He flicked his wrists before wiping them dry on his jeans. He then cornered around to sit on the other stool next to Ian. Fiona just laughed to herself. 

"Maybe. Maybe not." She said. 

"I think I'll stay till Thanksgiving if that's okay." Ian said, looking at his boyfriend. Trevor returned his look. 

"If you want," Trevor said. "I, on the other hand, am going home to get a change of clothes and do some washing. Getting a little homesick." 

"Sorry about that." Ian quietly apologised and Trevor's face fell slightly. 

"Hey, no," The brunet placed his hand on Ian's arm, "It's fine. I like staying here with you. Where you grew up." 

"An absolute shitholeー" 

"Hey!" Fiona interrupted. 

Ian continued, "Home, nonetheless." 

"It's quaint. Vintage. Homely." Trevor complimented. "Gotta feed the cats too. I'll bring you a change of clothes?" Ian nodded. 

"When are you off leave?" Fiona asked. Ian leaned his elbows back onto the counter top. 

"Next week." Ian informed. "There goes almost all of my annual leave." 

"You sure you'll be okay?" Trevor looked at Ian with concern. Ian nodded again. 

"Yeah." The redhead smiled. "Yeah, the new meds... They're good. I'll be good." 

"Okay." Trevor smiled back, leaning in to peck Ian on the lips. "Gotta piss." He slid off the stool, patting Ian's thigh before making his way up the stairs and into the bathroom. 

"So lovey-dovey." Fiona mockingly said. Ian rolled his eyes, moving to sit across from Fiona on the dining table. "You hear from Carl? Know if he and Ty's coming for Thanksgiving?" 

"Uh, yeah." Ian said. "I mean, I don't know if they're coming. I can ask. Debbie might know." He cocked his head towards upstairs where Debbie, Franny and Lip were. They weren't staying until Thanksgiving like Ian was but had decided to stop by Monday night to know the plans for the holiday (and now, since it was late, spend the night). 

"He didn't answer his phone when I called." Fiona said, looking up from her laptop. "You know what's up with him?" 

Ian made a face, "Kinda." Fiona gave Ian a questioning look. "He told me he told Tyrell he was maybe sorta in love with him." 

"Oh, Jesus." Fiona groaned. 

"Hmm, yeah." Ian said. 

"Don't get me wrong; Ty's a good guy. But a month? Really?" Fiona rolled her eyes as she spoke critically. "Already dropping the  _L_ word." 

Ian cocked his head to the side, "That's rich coming from someone who married a guy she knew for like a week." 

Fiona shoved the table forward as a proxy to hit Ian. "Yeah, but this is  _Carl_." She reasoned. "And you're never gonna let  _that_ go, will you?" 

"Almost ten years on, I'm still gonna milk it before it expires." Ian said teasingly. 

"It's expired. Way  _way_ expired. Ancient history. Let's forget it." Fiona said, fixing the table back. Ian huffed out in amusement. 

"Hey, Ian?" 

Ian looked up towards the stairs where Lip was just coming down. "Yeah?" 

Lip dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking a little less like himself before he thumbed in the direction of the front door, "Can we talk? In private?" 

Ian turned to look at Fiona who looked back at him in confusion. He then looked at Lip. "Yeah. Uh, yeah. Sure." 

"Cool. Okay." Lip said, leading the way out to the front porch of the house with Ian following behind. 

* 

"Need your advice, little sis." Lip asked, after knocking once on Debbie's old bedroom door and letting himself in. Debbie was on her bed with Franny sleeping by her side. She was on her laptop. 

"What's up?" She asked, closing the lid and setting it aside. She sat up more, leaning her back completely against the wall as Lip came to sit at the end of her bed. He dug into his pocket, retrieving a napkin and handed it over to her. She took it cautiously, reading what was written. " _Peters' Mechanics_. What's this?" 

"That's where Mickey works." He said. "And apparently  _lives_ too? I don't know." 

Debbie's eyebrows shot up. "Wait,  _what?_ " 

"Yeah, I got it from, uh, Mandy, the other day."

" _Wait_ ,  _what?_ " Debbie leaned forward. Franny stirred a little in her sleepー both Debbie and Lip looked at the little girl before Debbie whispered harshly, "Wait, what? You met with Mandy? Mandy Milkovich?" 

Lip shrugged. "Swiped her number off Ian's phone. Asked to meet up with her." 

"Why?" Debbie questioned, handing back the napkin to Lip. He took it and shoved it back into his pocket. 

"It was always Mickey that I used to go to when Ian... when Ian was,  _you know_." Lip began. "It was Mickey that we  _all_ used to go to back then. And well, since then, Ian's... he's been okay. His episodes weren't too extremeー  _luckily_ ー and we all managed to help him. But this right... He's not really..." 

"Told me his new meds are fine." Debbie said. "He's getting better. He's going back home with Trevor after Thanksgivingー back to work the following week." 

"You honestly believe he's  _fine_ , Debs?" Lip asked quietly. Her silence gave him the answer she really wanted to say. 

"I mean... Sure, he's... this is the first time in a  _long time_ since moving out that he's come back home. But he  _looks_ fine." Debbie defended, quickly glancing down at Franny. 

"I think you of all people should know he's not." Lip said, also looking at Franny. 

"It's just an ear pierce." Debbie said, running her hand through Franny's hair. "It's cute. She wanted it." 

"Okay, sure, he's not stealing babies. He got Franny pierced." Lip stated. "But he didn't tell you. He didn't say anything. He bought her new fucking expensive earrings tooー one an eight year old should  _not_ be wearing. She could get rolled for those small diamonds." 

"They're nice." Debbie sighed. 

"Impulsive spending, Debs. Impulsive actions. What else he gonna do if not piercings?" Lip questioned, voice a little loud. 

"She didn't get hurtー" 

"Please, Debs." Lip interrupted. "Please admit he's not getting better." 

Debbie stayed silent before nodding just once. Lip sighed, shoulders relaxing. Debbie drew the blanket over Franny's shoulders before shrugging a little. "So what are you saying?" 

"I met up with Mandy to, uh, talk about Ian." Lip said. "And I guess, Mickey too." He then proceeded to tell her in brief detail about his conversation with the youngest Milkovich. 

After he was done, Debbie took a moment to draw in the information. "So what are you needing me for?" 

"Like I said, advice." Lip repeated. "I know what Mandy thinks. I wanna know what you think." 

"About what?" Debbie asked. "About Ian and Mickey meeting again after eight years?" 

"It's gonna be  _nine_ soon, but yeah." Lip said. "You've met with him. I just wanna know if you think it's a good idea. Mandy's a little biased. Okayー maybe a  _lot_ biased so I guess what I'm asking is, from an outsider's point of view, what you think. Good idea? Bad?" 

Debbie bit her lower lip in contemplation. "The smart engineer Lip asking  _me_ for advice?" She teased. Lip rolled his eyes. "I don't really know, to be honest." She then confessed. "Mick did ask about Ian when we met. Didn't really look too sad or anything when I told him about Ian. I don't know; that was a weird day for the both of us. But aren't  _you_ also an outsider?" 

"I was close with Mandy, not Mickey." Lip reminded. 

"What, so you're saying  _I'm_ close to Mickey?" Debbie asked incredulously. 

"More so than me. Never hung out with the guy or anything." 

"Oh what, and me and him and Liam planning to  _torture_ Sammi counts?" Debbie asked. 

"And the time you two spent when you met at the mall." Lip added and she sighed.

"I don't know, Lip. They're grown men now. And if you going to Mandy to see if she thinks it's  _okay_ for them to meetー and  _clearly_ she did since she gave you that napkin shitー then okay. It should be okay." Debbie said nonchalantly. "But also, should we really be deciding this?" She questioned. 

"What do you mean?" 

"You're not stupid, Lip." Debbie crossed her arms over her chest. "I asked if Mickey wanted to come over, he said no." 

"Yeah, and?" 

" _And_ , I gave him the opportunity. The opportunity to see Ian." Debbie explained. 

"And he said no." Lip repeated, getting Debbie's angle. 

"It's been a month since then. And he  _did say_ he was just trying to figure things out." She recalled. "I don't know, maybe things have changed. But it's not like I can call him or anything. I don't have his numberー it's probably changed by now. Who knows?" 

Lip cocked his head to the side, "You saying that this time I should let Ian decide?" 

Debbie shrugged, pursing her lips. "Give him the opportunity to see if he wants to or not. So yeah, let him decide." 

They sat in silence for a second, considering where their conversation has lead to. Lip then patted Debbie's leg before standing. "Thanks, kid." He left Debbie's room, closing the door behind him and heading downstairs. 

"Hey Ian? Can we talk? In private?"

* 

So maybe there was something special with Thanksgiving, Mickey thought as he leaned against the hood of the car he had just finished fixing up. He carefully wiped his hands as he watched James and Elliot exit the men's change room. 

"I feel bad." James said as the two, soon joined by Charlie, rounded by where Mickey was. 

"Don't." Mickey said, putting his rag down and smiling. "I offered, remember?" 

"Yeah, we still feel bad though." Elliot said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. 

"Could use the extra cash." Mickey confessed, not wanting to let them know the real reason being that he got to work in _silence_ for the rest of the day. 

"Oh, so it's about the money, and not about being  _kind_ to your fellow workmates, huh?" James deducted. Elliot nudged him and James cracked a smile. 

"Of course it's about the money." Charlie said. "Mick here's got a family to feed, unlike you two." 

"Wow, thanks, boss." James sighed. 

"Alright, you two are off the clock. Enjoy your half day to do absolutely nothing." Charlie dismissed, flicking his wrist to excuse the apprentices. 

James and Elliot rolled their eyes, "Happy Thanksgiving!" They chorused out before leaving the store. 

"Kid coming home soon?" Charlie asked after a beat, digging his hand into his back pocket. Mickey glanced up, looking at the clock hoisted on the wall. 

"Should be on his way now." Mickey said, clock reading three-twenty. 

"Alright." Charlie said, handing him a set of keys. "You good to lock up?" 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good." Mickey assured, taking the keys. 

"Okay then." Charlie glanced around before nodding once. "Happy Thanksgiving." 

"Yeah, happy Thanksgiving." Mickey repeated. Just as Charlie left, Yevgeny arrived like clockwork. "Hey, kid." He greeted, meeting Yevgeny half way as Yevgeny entered the store. 

"Hi Dad." He said. 

"How's school?" Mickey asked, taking Yevgeny's bag off him. 

"It was okay." Yev replied as they walked further inside. 

"That's good. You thirsty?" 

Yevgeny nodded. 

The conversation, and as long lived as it was with Svetlana the night they went grocery shopping, still stayed in Mickey's mind even two days later. 

 _What happens, happens_ he remembered her saying. And for the first time in a long time, Mickey had that gut wrenching feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The feeling he got when  _uncertainty_ haunted him. 

It was one of the things in the whole world he absolutely  _hated_ feeling. 

He hated it. 

_Will you? Wait?_

_Fuckin' lie if you have to._

He never used to have that fear of uncertainty, and after a while, he eventually got over it. And as the world surely forgot about him, he forgot about that feeling. 

Until it returned again. 

Mickey, in the past month, had inevitably gotten softer. 

More caring. 

Compassionate. 

Loving.

Those were also things he had forgotten he was when he was incarcerated for eight long years. They disappeared the day he last saw the person who  _made_ him like that. 

But now, they've returned because of the kid with blond hair and blue eyes, no taller than his waist. 

Whose name is Yevgeny. 

His son. 

The love he felt for Yevgenyー it was a different kind of love. He knew the differenceー and the warmth he felt every time he heard the kid call him  _dad_ ー it filled some sort of void in his chest; filling what he carved in with a dirty needle and a fucked up sense for spelling. 

And as he watched Yevgeny gaze at the engine of another car Mickey started on, he felt the need to step in closer.

And soon, his arms were wrapped around his son, hugging him tightly from behind.

"Dad!" Yevgeny giggled, squirming in Mickey's arms as Mickey lifted him off the car. "What are you doing!" 

"You will never escape," Mickey said mock scary voice, holding Yev by the waist before spinning around. The kid broke out in laughter, wiggling even more. 

"Dad, stop!" Yevgeny chortled out. Mickey finally let his son down onto the ground, ruffling his hair as he knelt. They were finally at eye level. 

"You're a good kid, you know that?" Mickey said, his tattooed fingers wrapping around Yevgeny's wrists. "Don't you ever end up like me." 

They stared at each other for no longer than a second before Yevgeny stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Mickey's neck. 

"I love you, dad." He said. Mickey didn't move for a moment until his arms found themselves around his kid, hugging Yevgeny back. He breathed in Yev's scent before kissing his temple. 

Caught up in their little moment, they didn't realise someone standing by the entrance of the garage. Mickey automatically stood up, the tight feeling in his chest making it a little hard to breathe. 

"Hey Mick." 

Mickey inhaled deeply, glancing at his son for a moment before breathing out, "Ian." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece: [IN PRIVATE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8458759).


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mild violence.

It was hard to explain the emotions they felt the moment their eyes met for the first time in eight long years. 

Mickey stood still, unsure if he was even  _breathing_ as his mind flushed blank with the sight of Ian. 

Ian fucking Gallagher. 

The one person in the whole entire world he did  _not_ want to see; and it wasn't because of the bad memoriesー it stemmed more along the lines of  _forgiveness_. 

Fuck, if Ian wanted Mickey to forgive him, he would. 

He would in a heartbeat and more. 

All the hurt, all the pain, all the nights spent in his cell, mind wondering if Ian was ever going to wait, and  _truly_ wait for him; all the hours spent believing Ian would come back  _one more time_.

See him  _one more time._

God, he looked so good.

And he hated that all of the things Ian had caused him to feel in the past washed away with just two simple words. 

 _Hey Mick._  

Ian didn't dare take a step closer as he held his arms across his chest, a sad smile plastered on his face. His eyes were a little red and his stance looked anything  _but_ confident. 

But it was Ian. 

Oh, Ian. 

And Mickey didn't know what to do.

"Uncle Ian!" Yevgeny shouted excitedly, legs ready to run towards the redhead, but Mickey quickly clasped his hand on Yevgeny's shoulder, keeping the kid by his side. Yevgeny looked up at Mickey in confusion but Mickey couldn't keep his eyes off of Ian.

And Ian was the sameー like if they were to look away from each other; the other would disappear without a trace.

"Yev, go upstairs. Wash up. I'll be there in a sec." Mickey said, no louder than a whisper. Yevgeny wanted to protest but the soft squeeze Mickey gave him stopped him from doing that. 

"Okay." Yevgeny resigned, giving Ian a longing look before turning on his heel to head upstairs. 

Now, it was just the two of them. 

Ian shifted on his feet as Mickey lost the confidence to keep looking at him. He looked the same as he remembered; just a little older. More mature. 

Still a fuckin' alien-looking carrot top. 

Still his fuckin' type. 

"He's big." Ian soon said and for a second, Mickey wasn't sure if he heard him right. 

"What?" 

"Yevgeny," Ian clarified. "He's gotten so big." 

Mickey shrugged, eyes drifting down to the floor. "Fuckin' short is what he is." 

Ian laughed lightly and somehow, that made Mickey relax, if just by a little bit. 

"What are you doing here, Ian?" Mickey asked, crossing his arms over his chest, almost defensively.

"I wanted to see you." Ian simply said. For some reason, Mickey found it hard to bring up the conversation they had over the phoneー like Ian didn't register what he said. 

 _I don't think we should see each other again_. 

But Ian knew. He remembered. 

And yet, he still wanted to see Mickey. 

"Now's... not really a good time." Mickey settled on saying. He was still on the clock, and he  _could_ find something around the shop to do. But Ian didn't look like he was going to falter. 

"When's a good time?" Ian asked, taking a tentative step forward. 

 _Never_ , Mickey wanted to say, but he just clenched his jaw. He couldn't find the courage to say it to Ian's face. 

There was nowhere for him to run. 

"I missed you." Ian said. "You look good, Mickey." 

And Mickey laughed at that, feeling a little sour, a little bitter and entirely confused. "What do you want?" 

"Just to talk." Ian answered like he'd been thinking about all the possibilities and questions Mickey might have. He probably felt the same as Mickeyー scared and uncertain. 

And as much as Mickey believed Ian deserved a little hurt, he just couldn't bring himself to do that to the man he loved. 

Still loves. 

"About what?" Mickey asked, letting his hands drop down to his side. 

"Anything." Ian said, finding a little more courage to step closer towards Mickey. "Everything. Nothing. It doesn't matter. Just wanna talk." 

And the moment Mickey finally looked back up at Ian, the pieces just _fell into place_ as they embraced each other into a tight hug like the world didn't matter. 

It didn't matter. 

The past didn't matter. 

The future didn't matter. 

The only thing that did was this moment, this one  _right here, right now_. 

And it felt so damn good. 

"I missed you too." Mickey said, burying his face in the nook of Ian's neck. Ian breathed in Mickey's scent; the sweet smell of sweat and the faint brush of cologne he must've worn after his morning shower and  _God_ , Ian's head grew dizzy with nostalgia. 

It was Mickey, just as he remembered.

But at the same time, he was different.

"I'm sorry." Ian began babbling, "I'm so  _so_ sorry, Mick. I'm so sorry." And he wasn't even being specific, but Mickey knew what he meant. 

They both knew what he meant. 

And the world just felt right. 

But they wondered for how long. 

* 

Ian watched with slight awe as Mickey continued to work. 

It was a little awkward, and Mickey couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable with Ian watching him like a hawkー or like he could disappear right in front of himー but soon, they broke into an easy conversation. They didn't touch on the past like it was unspoken taboo, and for the hours until Mickey finally finished his shift, they really did just talk about anything, everything, nothing. 

It was nice. It was safe. 

But they didn't learn anything about each other. 

At least, nothing  _new_.

It was like they were still stuck in the past without actually  _talking_ about the past. And they wouldn't admit this to each other, but they both felt frustrated at how futile their conversation was. 

Ian really did just want to talk; anything, everything, nothingー but he was quick to realise he wanted  _more._  

He wanted to know more of Mickey,  _more_ of him; who he is  _now_ , what he's thinking  _now_ , how he feel  _now_. 

But a part of him was too scared to know. It wasn't like he knew what he didn't want to hear nor did he expect to expect whatever Mickey was going to say; it was these kind of questions Ian just didn't know how to prepare for. 

And he took hours to prepare for this. 

A couple days, in fact. 

And now that he was here, now that he was here with _Mickey_ , he just didn't know what to do. 

Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. 

That was all Ian could think about. 

Not about the fact that Mickey might not want him here. 

Or the fact that Mickey probably didn't like him anymore. 

Or the fact that Mickey did say they shouldn't see each other again. 

It was all just Mickey. 

Mickey. 

He wanted to kiss him. 

He didn't. 

"You're a real grease monkey, aren't you?" Ian commented as he leaned against the sink. Mickey huffed in amusement, using a generous amount of soap to wash his hands clean. 

"It's alright. Finally know a honest trade. It's good. I like it." Mickey said, smiling a little to himself. Ian felt his heart melting at the sight. 

"Yeah?" Ian sighed. "That's good." 

"Heard you're an EMT." Mickey said, turning off the tap. He grabbed a clean rag to dry his hands before turning to lean against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, now finding it easier to look at Ian like how he used to.

Maybe not entirely how he used to. 

But this was progress. 

Ian shrugged, looking down. "Yeah. Long time now. Pay's good. Job's rewarding." 

"Ian Gallagher, savin' lives." Mickey stated. "Better than killin' 'em." He reminisced, referencing Ian's ROTC days.

Ian chuckled at that. "Yeah and Mickey Milkovich, fixin' cars." 

"Who would've guessed?" Mickey shrugged languidly.

And suddenly, Ian asked, "Are you single?" 

Mickey lost his breath for a second. "What?" 

"Single." Ian repeated. "Are you... seeing anyone?" 

"Why?" Mickey questioned, thinking back to his conversation with Debbie a few weeks ago. 

 _His name is Trevor. He's nice. They've been together almost seven years now._  

"Just wanna know." Ian said, looking straight ahead. His fingers had curled under the counter top, thrumming rhythmically. 

"It's none of your business." Mickey finally said, deciding it was better to leave it that. 

But of course, Ian couldn't. "So that's a no?" 

"The fuck's it to you?" Mickey snapped, but there was no spite. 

"Just wanna know." The redhead repeated. "I'm... I've been seeing someone." 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Trevor. That's his name. Been together for a long time now." 

"Ian, I don't fuckinー" 

"Was thinking about marrying him." Ian confessed.

Mickey felt sick almost immediately.

He pushed himself off the counter, grabbing the keys Charlie gave him and proceeded to walk towards the front of the garage to close up. Ian followed behind closely and continued almost relentlessly, "Can't be with someone for that long and not wanna marry them." 

"Con-fucking-gratulations, Gallagher." Mickey said, clenching his jaw tightly as he shoved in one of the keys in the keyhole in the wall to activate the rolling shutters. Slowly, and so  _fucking noisily_ , they descended. He wished Ian had the common sense to step out onto the other side. 

He didn't, of course. "We were on and off, sometimes as long as a couple months. But we always found our way back to each other." 

Mickey just gripped the keys harder. 

"I love him." Ian said. "A lot. He's the first person I've ever told that to." 

And Mickey felt like screaming, but his voice didn't have the strength. He turned around, letting go of the key lodged in the wall before looking at Ian. "Why the fuck are you telling me this?" 

"I love you." Ian said. Mickey's face contorted in hurt and confusion and Ian stepped closer until he couldn't step anymore. "I should've told you. All those years ago, Mickー it was you. It was always you. I wish you were the first one I said it to. You were always the one I wanted to do everything with." He confessed, taking Mickey's hands in his. 

Ian looked down, running the pads of his thumbs over Mickey's tattooed knuckles. He then dropped them, moving his fingers up to unbuckle Mickey's overalls. 

Mickey couldn't move. He was paralysed.

He knew what love meant to him, he understood his own kind of loveー but Ian's... 

It was so different. 

So foreign. 

So unknown.

So new. 

Was hurting him Ian's kind of love? 

He didn't know. 

Mickey's never been loved beforeー at least, never been told he's been loved. But now that he has by the first person he's ever lovedー

It was too overwhelming. 

He wasn't sure how to handle it. 

As the straps of Mickey's overalls peeled down, Ian's fingers grabbed the neck of Mickey's black shirt, abruptly ripping it wide enough to expose the mangled mess of a tattoo he had on his chest. 

Mickey, in that moment, had never felt so vulnerable in his life. 

"Ian, stop." He all but whispered, shivering as Ian lightly ran his fingers over the tattoo. It may have been done dangerously, but it healed nicely. Slight bumps and scarsー but Ian found it beautiful. 

He found Mickey beautiful. 

He pressed his lips against the tattoo. 

"Don't." Mickey breathed out, softly pushing Ian back. All it did was cause Ian to press his head against Mickey's chestー and despite the difficult angle, Ian never felt so in place in his life. 

"I love you, Mick." Ian repeated, moving to look at Mickey properly. "I wish I told you sooner. I wish you knew."

"No fuckin' point in telling me now." Mickey sighed, pulling the tattered fabric of his shirt to cover up the tattoo as much as he could. He turned his attention back to the shutters just as they had finished closing before locking it down in place. He removed the key, staring at the bundle before muttering, "You should go." 

"So it doesn't matter?" Ian asked. "Doesn't matter to you that I said it now?" 

 _Of course it fuckin' matters_. Mickey shrugged, looking back at Ian. "What good does it do me now? I've moved on. So have you." 

"You don't know that," Ian almost shouted. And Mickey laughed at how pathetic that sounded. 

"You were  _just_ talking about marrying your fucking boyfriendー  _boyfriendー_ Ian, you have a fucking boyfriend!" 

"When did that ever stop you?" Ian questioned. "When did that ever stop us?" 

And Ian in retrospect, was right. 

No matter how long they've gone without seeing each otherー

No matter who was with whoー

No matter where they wereー

They would always find their way back to each other. 

Always.

No matter what. 

But this time...

"It stopped when I decided to believe you really didn't want to be with me anymore." Mickey confessed. "Didn't wanna believe it for a long fuckin' time. But soon, I did. And now it's true. And I moved on since. I stopped giving a shit about you." He wasn't really sure if he meant it though, and with Ian standing in front of him, he felt like he couldn't stay honest. 

This was too much for Mickey, and the anger inside him bubbled. 

"You don't love me anymore?" Ian asked, sounding hurt. 

"What the fuck did you expect, Ian?" Mickey growled. "What did you expect was gonna happen when you came here? That I'd automatically... Did you forget Iー on the phoneー" 

"I remember." Ian assured. Mickey's face just contorted in confusion. 

"Then why the _fuck_ are you here?" Mickey asked, exasperated. "What do you want? To talk? Like that's not just some fuckin' set up to fuck me over with the whole " _I love you_ " bullshitー" 

"It's not bullshit, Mickey!" Now Ian was shouting, but it wasn't out of anger. "I love you, I really doー" 

"Stop acting like you can trick me!" Mickey spat back. "I'm not fuckin' stupid, you bitch!" 

"Why are you so  _mad_ at me?" Ian asked, sounding a little desperate. "Why is it so hard for you to believe me when I say I loveー" 

"Why  _now?_ " Mickey interrupted. "Why you telling me this now? Now that I'm out? Now that I'm  _free?_ " 

The lost look on Ian's face caused Mickey's anger to bubble over and explode. He pushed Ian back with a little force. "You fucking piece of shit!" 

"The fuck, Mickey?" Ian asked, pushing him back. "Fuck was that for?" 

"Now that I'm out, you just so happen to _feel_ like fuckin' telling me you love me?" Mickey asked, shoulders squaring up. "You had  _eight fucking years_ to tell me!" 

"Is that why you're mad?" Ian retorted angrily, "Because I waited to tell you? Don't you understand how fuckin' hard it was to see you like that? How hard it was for me?" 

Now Mickey was laughing. "Hard for  _you?_ You motherfucker!" 

Mickey lunged forward, tackling Ian down hard onto the concrete of the garage. Ian groaned, grabbing onto Mickey to pull him off. 

And then the first punch was landed. 

Mickey was on top of Ian, fisting Ian's clothes in his hand. "That was hard for  _you?_ Seeing me in there? Seeing me like that?" He growled, punching Ian again. Ian grunted, jaw set as he prepared for impact before grappling Mickey's waist. He then forcefully pushed Mickey off, rolling on top of him before landing a punch of his own. 

"You don't understand!" Ian shouted, trying to grab a hold of Mickey's arms that threatened to claw at him. 

"I don't understand?" Mickey spat out, struggling against Ian. They were always on par with each other whenever they fought, but right now, Mickey felt so weak; so mentally drained, and it showed. "You're the one who didn't fucking understand!" Mickey grabbed onto Ian's shirt, jerking him forward just as he lifted himself up to smash their heads together. 

Ian groaned, barrelling back; nose beginning to bleed. Mickey took the opportunity to clamber back on top. He pushed Ian down, pressing the palms of his hands onto Ian's shoulders to keep him down. "I was all alone, you fucking dick!" Mickey said, air losing him. "You left me all alone; fucking had to get paid to see me? I was worth fifty bucks to you? You fucking asshole! You wanna talk about _hard?_ That was fuckin' hard! Spending those fuckin' nights wondering if I'd ever get to see you againー"

"Mickeyー" Ian groaned, grabbing the loose overalls to yank Mickey close enough for him to grab the back of his neck. 

He then smashed his lips against Mickey's. 

Mickey automatically relaxed against Ian as their lips slotted togetherー the kiss quickly deepening. He felt Ian's tongue against his own and it felt so  _good_ , it went down straight to his dick. Ian's fingers were tentative as one hand stroked the back of Mickey's head; the other feeling up Mickey's flank. 

Mickey held his hands against Ian's head, framing him gently as he pushed his own tongue against Ian's, moaning faintly into the kiss. He can taste something savoury, mixed with the metallic tang of Ian's blood dripping down and the familiar taste of  _home_. 

He felt so at home as they rutted their hips against each other; Ian grinding up in time with Mickey's ass rubbing down. 

Mickey had never gotten so hard so fast in so longー he felt like he was going to explode. 

But instead, he just pulled awayー a string of saliva connecting their lips until it broke. And Mickey inhaled shakily, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. 

"Mickey." Ian said breathlessly, bringing his hand up to stroke Mickey's cheek with his thumb. "Mickey."

They both knew what they wanted. They both could  _feel_ it. But Mickey still felt shy. "Ian, I haven't..."

"It's okay." Ian assured, knowing Mickey couldn't finish his sentence. "It's okay, Mick. I'm sorry." 

"Just like old times, huh?" Mickey laughed weakly, holding onto Ian's wrist. 

"Just with more clothes," Ian joked. Mickey smiled, albeit a little broken. "And more blood."

"Ian, I think you should go." Mickey suggested, hoping Ian understood why.

Hoping that Ian knows that this may like be  _old_   _times_ , but isn't. 

It's not the same; can't be. 

Mickey refused to let it be. 

"Mickey, I'mー" 

"Just go." The brunet said, climbing off of Ian. He sat down on the concrete ground next to Ian who just looked up at him from his lying position. 

They stared at each other for a moment despite it feeling like an eternity before Ian sat up, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his jacket. "Okay. Okay." He said. He then rose up to his feetー now looking down on Mickey. He wore an unreadable expression; one Mickey's never seen before before Ian said, "It was hard for me too, alright? It was hard for me too." 

And then Ian left through the front door right next to shutter, making a point of slamming it shut behind him. 

Mickey let out a tired breath, hands trembling. 

The sound of Ian's voice laced with venom lingered in his head. 

* 

"Mickey? Is there anything you wanna say this time?" 

"Pass." 

He didn't have anything against Dr. Riley. She seemed nice. Pretty. But she tried too hard.

And Mickey, for the lack of nothing better to do in his free time, regretfully so decided to attend group therapy. 

Therapy for what? 

He was a criminal. 

There's no fixing that. 

However, Dr. Riley thought it was best for Mickey to join, even if he didn't need to participate. 

But she tried too hard, and that made Mickey not wanna say anything at all. 

Of course, Mickey had a lot of things to say. A lot of things to get off his chest. 

And he knew that since he was going to be in _here_ for fifteen years, eventually, he'd have to open up. 

But this was only his first year.

The sting on his chest was still fresh; it still throbbed with pain and hurt and infection and blood. 

He wasn't ready to open up.

Not yet. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains homophobic slurs and homophobic language.

Mickey tried to believe that the hurt in his chest was because he was fucking around with a dirty needle and a mind full of _Ian_ , but even as the throbbing dulled and the infection escaped danger, Mickey knew it was because of something else. Something more beyond the physical pain.

It was clear as day that Ian wouldn't wait.

Why would he?

They already broke up.

But the thing that screwed Mick over was the fact that Ian was there to visit him.

He half expected him to, but danced on the idea that it really was the end.

But Ian was there.

He came.

He visited him.

He didn't have to, but he did. He  _tried_. 

And it reminded Mickey of the time back in juvie, when he had gotten shot by Kash, the _moment_.

The moment where he caught feelings for the redhead.

Mickey remembered the feeling; the thoughts that raced through his headー so foreign, so new. And he didn't understand what they meant; not at first, anyway.

It wasn't so much as him admitting that he liked boys in general; it was more along the lines of him liking _this boy_ in particular.

He could give fuck all to all the other faggots around who wanted to slap a label on their relationship; hold hands out in public and do all that gay shit.

He was the one that beat up those dick lovin' fairies.

But what Mickey felt with Ian; the fluttering feeling he got when Ian was aroundー or when Ian spoke to him, and more especially, the feeling he got when Ian was inside himー and not just physically, but emotionally tooー it was like a whole new world expanded before his eyes.

All in the form of a pale-skinned, alien-looking, carrot top.

All because of Ian.

And it made Mickey scared. He was scared of the unknown.

But God, did it feel so damn good.

However... it was the nights where his mind drifted away from the good memories and into the bad ones that made him thinkー

Where had it all gone wrong?

Where had he gone wrong?

What did he do to deserve so much pain?

It was thoughts like those that haunted him for the first three years in prison.

*

After Mickey had turned off all the lights in the garage, he headed upstairsー almost breaking into a sprint at the thought of leaving Yevgeny upstairs all alone all this time.

But once he burst through the door, he saw that Svetlana was there and the two of them were watching television.

"Since when the fuck did you get back?" Mickey asked, trying to even his breath. Svetlana eyed him suspiciously.

"Hour ago. I come in from back door." She said, standing. Mickey closed the door shut behind him, lowering his gaze as Svetlana approached. "What happened to your face? You are bruising." She brought her hand up to hold onto his chin, inspecting his face closer. "You get into fight?"

"It's nothing." Mickey said, swatting her hand away gently before moving towards the kitchen. "Don't worry about it."

"You fight with orange boy?" She asked. Mickey stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"Yevgeny tells me orange boy was here." Svetlana said, reaching the kitchen before Mickey does. She goes into the fridge and pulls out a beer. She then pressed it forcefully against Mickey's bruise, causing him to grimace.

"Ow, the fuck, Lana!" Mickey cursed, flinching. He snatched the can away from her, opening it. Svetlana rolled her eyes, leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter as Mickey moved to sit by the dining table.

"Why was orange boy here?" She questioned.

"The fuck do you care?"

Svetlana clicked her tongue, "You leave Yevgeny upstairs alone. Must be good reason why you choose Ian over your son. Or are you suddenly his bitch again?"

"Shut the fuck up," Mickey said, flipping her off with his free hand before taking a swig of his drink.

"Yevgeny, go wash up." Svetlana dismissed, eyeing her son as he did what he was told. Once the kid disappeared behind the bathroom door, Svetlana walked over to sit next to Mickey. "So? What is deal?"

Mickey looked down at the can in his hands, shrugging a little. "Yevgeny." Was all he could say. It was enough for Svetlana, but he knew there was going to be a point in... whatever arrangement he and Svetlana had that his vague, one word answers weren't going to be enough.

But today, Svetlana was tired and feeling a little pitiful. She supposed Mickey choosing Yevgeny now over Ian was enough for her to feel some sort of security.

God knows in the past, he would've chose Ian in a heartbeat.

He did choose Ian before anyone else.

A part of Svetlana felt bitter that the her of the past really wanted Mickey to choose her.

But he chose her now, in some sort of strange way.

It was enough.

Svetlana sighed, standing. She looked down on Mickey who still refused to meet her gaze. She kind of liked how the tough, Southside thug bore insecuritiesー shyness and a timid nature, if anything.

She ran her fingers through the top of his head, feeling him flinch at the contact. He didn't move though; he just looked up at her with confused eyes.

She gave him a small smile, so faint, Mickey was sure he didn't see it before the Russian tugged his hair, briefly but roughly pulling the strands.

"Owー fucking, _stop!_ " Mickey growled, spilling his beer as he tried to pry away her hand. She quickly left go of him, smirking.

"You stop swearing in front of Yevgeny and I cook you dinner." She said.

Mickey just rubbed his scalp, sulking a little.

*

"I'm glad you told me this, Mickey." Dr. Riley said, and the way Mickey eyed herー like he could attack her if she just so much as showed any signs of writing what he had told her downー was somewhat threatening.

But on the account that they keep their _sessions_  one on one, she promised not to write anything down.

Mickey figured after four years in here, he earned her confidentialityー and it was obvious that it was a given, but the thought of her not having anything he's said on record gave him comfort.

He wasn't sure what angle Dr. Riley was aiming at here by offering her services to him with no benefit to her, but under the impression of just being a friend to him was apparently enough for her.

At first, he didn't buy it.

But then again, he never really had any friends.

Ian wasn't even a friend.

So what he and Dr. Riley had...

This was... nice.

Not like he'd let her know that.

Not yet.

But he did let her know something else. And he braced himself for her follow up question, "But, why?"

_Why did he decide to remove everyone off his visitor's list?_

_Why did he decide to shut everyone out?_

_Why now?_

_Why all of a sudden?_

Mickey knew this was what she meant when she asked _why_. And in truth, Mickey himself wasn't sure why he did what he did.

Nothing bad happened for him to have done what he did.

He just did it.And a part of him believed that he was protecting someone.

Himself? Maybe. He didn't know.

And he also didn't know what he was protecting himself or someone else from by doing what he did.

Call it impulsive.

That's what Mickey told Dr. Rileyー for now, she was willing to accept it.

With Mickey, this was progress. To her, this was a win.

They both knew Mickey wasn't letting on as much as he wanted to or should've, but Dr. Riley believed that this was a prosperous adventure that she was willing to go through with him.

No matter how long it takes, she will help Mickey not only open up to her completely, but also open up to himself about how he felt.

To her, it looked like he was built up just to crash down.

She learnt that in the four years she spent with himー at first, once a week in group therapy, and then, an hour one on one every month.

Mickey didn't understand why he was worth all this trouble to her; why he was different from the rest of the inmates; and in all honesty, he believed she did this because she was bored.

Or maybe because he was a hard case to crack.

It wasn't like he was going to complainー it's not like he had anything better to do in here.

He still had eleven years left in this shithole.

But he wasn't ready to open up fully.

Not yet.

*

"Can you stop looking at me like that?" Mickey complained, swinging his fork around like he was trying to make a point.

Svetlana made Mickey a bowl of pastaー or rather, just served it to him after heating it up in the microwaveー and the two of them sat on the couch, vaguely watching the news.

Yevgeny had fallen asleepー on his own bed nowー leaving both Svetlana and Mickey in an uncomfortable silence.

It was uncomfortable because Svetlana kept looking at Mickey as he ate. She wasn't trying to be subtle about it either and her stares drove Mickey crazy.

"What?" He snapped, putting down his half eaten dinner on the coffee table.

"I tell you about my day," Said Svetlana. Mickey's eyebrows shot up.

"I don't give aー" _fuck about your day_ , Mickey was about to say, before abruptly stopping himself. Svetlana looked at him with an arched brow, silently challenging him to finish his sentence. Instead, Mickey breathed in deeply through his nose, shifting his body to face her. "Okay. How... how was your day?"

And God, he wish he could wipe off the smug look on her face as she smiled brightly, sitting up straight. "Is good."

Mickey looked at her. She looked back at him. And then he squinted, flailing his hands around, "Is thatー is that all you're gonna fucking say?"

Svetlana shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly.

"Oh my Godー fine. _Fine_. What happened?" He mused. Svetlana's smile grew into a shit eating grin.

"I speak with George." She finally said.

"Who the fuck's George?"

"Sugar daddy. One of them." Svetlana clarified. Mickey rolled his eyes, deciding to go back to finishing his dinner.

"Yeah, and?"

"We speak of marriage." She said. "Is look good. We go ring shopping after Thanksgiving."

Mickey tried his best to not sound phased as he asked, "You tell him about the kid?"

"No." She said, and Mickey felt relieved for some reason, "No time to bring it up."

"Since when the fuck did you care about timing?" Mickey joked, only earning himself a light pinch to his shoulder.

"I tell him soon." Svetlana assured, but the look on her face made it seem like she was anything but. Mickey shrugged off her concerns, mind drifting off to his kid sleeping up on the bunk.

The thoughts of what would happen to his relationship with Yevgeny resurfaced.

But it didn't seem like what he felt mattered enough for anyone to care. 

The only one person he thought would've caredー probably doesn't anymore.

And the thought of his name made him sickー

The things he did to Mickey. 

The things he made Mickey feel. 

Ian Gallagher. 

*

"So the first thing you ever said to him was his name?"

Mickey laughed at the memory; it was clear as dayー he remembered everything about the first time he met Ian Gallagher. "He messed with Mandy. Or at least, that's what she told us at the time."

"You do know that you're a good brother in your own way, right?" She assured but Mickey just shrugged.

 _She's probably dead by now_ , he thought. And Dr. Riley knew that's what he thought.

The topic of Mandy had come up over the years.

And now entering his eighth, it was probably safe to say she knew a lot of things about him; things that he's never told anyoneー things about himself that _he_ didn't even know.

And she knew the regret he carried with him when he couldn't stop Mandy from leaving.

But that was a conversation that had already been said.

Mandy. Svetlana. Yevgeny. Sammi.

They were all conversations they've had. They were all chapters left now in the past.

This one, howeverー the chapter labelled _Ian_ ー Mickey supposed it was time.

It was time to finally get him off his chest and out in open.

Dr. Riley steered back on track, clearly not wanting to deviate from this topic. She waited eight long years and now, Mickey was finally opening up on the reason he went to jailー the person he was _willing_ to go to jail for. "And the last thing he's seen of you was his name carved on your chest?" She asked, knowing the answer through putting the pieces together.

Mickey nodded. "Spelt it wrongー his name. But he smiled. Didn't matter to me that he was laughing at what a fucking dumbass I was. Missed it. Loved it. Would've done anything at that point to see it again." He smiled to himself, a little lost in the memory. "What?"

"Nothing." Dr. Riley said, noticing that she found herself staring at Mickey as he spoke with something she never thought she would ever witness from him.

And the way he spoke with such _fondness_ , with such _kind melancholy_ ; she'd be lying if she didn't felt a tinge of jealousy at this Ian who did Mickey so wrong.

This Ian, who had given Mickey false hope.

This Ian, who visited Mickey upon getting paid to do so.

This Ian, who Mickey spoke with the stars in his eyesー like the universe suddenly did right by himー

This Ian that Dr. Riley could never understand why Mickey was so in love with, despite her _understanding things_ being her profession.

Mickey spoke about Ian like he was the world, but through the eyes of others...

Ian had missed out on a good thing.

"Was he worth it?" She found herself asking. "Everything you've ever done for him; was it worth it?"

"Fuck no." Mickey said almost immediately, leaning back against his chair. "I'm in fucking jail. Ain't like I'm gonna get back with him after I get out. Wasting the good years of my life fuckin' talking to you about my life." He pointed out, crossing his arms. "But..."

"But what?" She questioned.

Mickey shrugged. "But... If you ask me if I regret doin' what I did for him... Then no. I don't."

"Can I ask why?"

He sighed. "I was in love with himー what other reason would there be to do the shit I did? I looked after him when his family didn't want to. I came out for him because he wanted me to be free. I did everything for him and I was in love and I won't ever fuckin' regret it because fuck if it made me feel so good."

Dr. Riley settled more into her own chair, noting the time was nearing until recreational was over for the day. "Then let me ask you thisー what did he ever do for you? What did this man, who lied, who betrayed, who cheated and had the sense to not only be swayed by money to see you, but also tell you that he got paid ever did for you?"

Mickey swallow deeply. "He..."

*

It grew late into the night to the point where only strange infomercials and sex hotline advertisement showed itself on the TV. Mickey had claimed his couch, lying down on it rather comfortably as Svetlana retreated to her bed.

They both, despite not seeing each other, could tell the other was still awake.

Svetlana's mind swarmed back to when Mickey came home with a bruise right on his face and the thoughts of Ian.

She hadn't seen him in a long time, not after the separation and especially not after the divorce to Veronica.

In all honesty, Mickey was their only link to one another, and after Mickey became all but a memory to everyone, their link had only disappeared.

She remembered despising the redhead for a long time.

And despite knowing she wasn't any better, she believed she was better than Ian. Unlike Ian, she has done a lot for Mickey and eight years on, she _still is_ doing a lot for him.

So even though she knew that Ian was always the one for Mickey, she could never understand why Mickey believed it was only just Ian there for him.

It was always Ian or no one.

And Mickey hated that it was true. He hated that if it wasn't Ian, it really was no one.

The whole of Southsideー maybe even the whole city of Chicago knew that Ian had everyone but Mickey just had Ian.

What was more frustrating than being tied down to that mentality was that Mickey didn't even _want_ anyone else.

Just Ian.

_"He... tried. That's all I can really say. Was that he tried. And that's all I can say he's ever done for me. Doesn't sound like much, but to me, it's a lot. And it's good enough of a reason for me to believe that it's enough. And that it's okay."_

Mickey suddenly sat up, and Svetlana's eyes widened. 

"Where you going?" She asked, now also sitting up as Mickey paced around the room, collecting his pants, a long sleeved shirt and a jacket. Putting them on, he then took his keys, wallet, smokes and phone; shoving them in the back pockets of his jeans, slipping on some shoes by the front door. 

"Out." He simply said. 

"Is middle of the night." Svetlana pointed out.

"Going for a walk..." Mickey offered, double checking he's got what he needed. "Be back later." 

"Where are you goー" Svetlana couldn't finish her sentence as Mickey left the apartment without another word. She stared at where Mickey was just a second ago before climbing out of bed, wrapping her blanket around her for warmth. She walked across the studio, opening the door next to the bathroom. 

In the coldness of the night, she shivered as she walked down the narrow aisle on the side of the studio before stepping out onto the openness of the roof deck. She quickly navigated herself to the edge of the roof deck where the half of the sign  _PETERS' MECHANICS_ acted as some sort of extra barrier above the railings of the roof deck. With nothing but the moonlight and the streetlamps, Svetlana vaguely caught wind of Mickeyー hands shoved down in his pockets, smoke coming from his mouth as he walked down the street and eventually out of her sight. 

It was a stretch, but Svetlana believed she knew where he was going. 

And Mickey believed she knew too. 

She wasn't wrong as over half an hour later, Mickey found himself nearing a familiar street.

A street that held the  _Gallagher's house._

*

The night always calmed him. A cigarette helped and a can of beer did too, but nothing soothed Ian anything more than the silence and the darkness of the night. 

Staring out into nothing with but a cigarette in between his lips, Ian sat on the steps of their front porch. 

Thinking about nothing. Thinking about everything. 

Thinking about Mickey. Thinking about Trevor. 

He knew that he was on the cusp of being stable and that seeing Mickey was  _anything_ but a good idea. But he did it anyway. 

He tried to make things right. 

But his genesー his fucking  _Gallagher Genes_ ー of course he managed to screw up a good thing.

It was good. What he and Mickey started on when he visited him at the mechanics earlier today was good. 

Then he had to go off and screw it up. But in some strange way, he wouldn't change how it went. Because in his own fucked up way, he finally got to tell Mickey what he wanted to say for a  _very long time_. 

And he knew that it was uncharted territory and he knew there was too much of a time gap for him to close in just one simple  _I love you_ , but at least Mickey knows. 

It's all Ian ever wanted. 

For Mickey to just  _know_. 

For Mickey to know that he was loved. That he was cared for. That he mattered. 

 _Did you know that, Ian?_  

Ian felt so bitter, so sweet, that Debbieー that  _everyone_ else knew more about Mickey and what Mickey did for him than he did himself. And he'd be lying if he said wasn't beaten up over it. 

He was. And he felt so regretful on how unappreciative he was to Mickey. 

He, Ian Gallagher, was the one to change him, Mickey Milkovich. 

And he didn't even know. 

 _He said he loved you, you fucking idiot_. Ian mentally berated himself, taking a dangerously long drag of his cigarette before downing the smoke with the rest of his beer. He crushed the can, throwing it out in the yard, hearing it clank against the metal gate. 

" _Fuck!_ " 

Ian stood up at the sound of someone's voice. And in the darkness with the faintest glow of the outdoor light, he saw him. 

He saw Mickey Milkovich.  

"Mick?" Ian called out tentatively, squinting a little to get a better look. He received no response at first; just the sound of the gate scraping open against the pavement and then closing shut.

Yeah.

It was Mickey.

"Hey." Mickey said like he was unsure of himself.

"What are you doing here?" Ian asked, taking a few steps down the stairs. Mickey stayed by the gate, but it didn't look like he was going to run. A little closer and Ian could see the bruise near Mickey's eyebrow; probably from earlier, Ian assumed. 

"I don't know." Mickey said. "I justー I don't know. Didn't even know you'd be here. Or what I'm doing here. Or that you'd be out here." He rambled lowly. 

"It's late." Said Ian. "And fuckin' cold, too. Did you walk all the way here?" 

"You see a fuckin' car around here?" Mickey asked, gesturing around before folding his arms over his chest. Ian laughed softly. 

"You're fucking nuts, walking all the way here in the dark." Ian said, cocking his head towards the front door. "Come inside." 

"You came to my work today." Mickey suddenly said, stopping Ian from ascending back up the stairs. 

"Yeah?" Ian breathed out. Mickey was looking anywhere but at him; somehow, it made him look vulnerable. 

"You came to my work." The brunet repeated, scuffing his boot against the pavement. "Why?"

"Mick, you already know whyー" 

"You love me." Mickey interrupted. "You spent years tryin' to get me to admit to you that I love you, that I'm  _gay_ and that we're together." 

"I did." Ian assured, stepping back down to stand a few feet away from Mickey. 

Mickey continued, "And then we were all that. Together and shit." He said. "But you never said that you loved me until today." 

"Mick, I don'tー I don't understand where you're going with this." 

"Me fuckin' either." Mickey laughed. "But... lookー I'm not good at this. All this... feelings and shit." 

"I think you're plenty good with your words." Ian encouraged, offering a small smile. 

"What good was that, I still lost you." Mickey said, knowing full well what Ian was referring to. 

_It means we take care of each other._

He continued, "But I get it. I mean,  _now_ I do. It was just hard for me to believe anything you said."

"No, no, and I get that." Ian quickly said, almost reaching out to hold onto Mickey. Mickey backed up against the gate, and that hurt Ian a little. "Sorry." 

"I should've just believed what I told myself all those years locked up." Mickey carried on, "It was just hard to once I got out. I came home to no one and it's all my fault but it still doesn't mean it didn't hurt. But I still should've just believed. It's what kept me going. It's what kept me loving you." 

Now the hurt that Ian felt spread to his chest and he found himself gritting his teeth. "And what was that?" 

"You tried." Mickey simply said. 

And it was like those two wordsー those _two small words_  suddenly set the world straight. It set the world  _right_. 

And there was no holding back as Ian closed the gap between them, cupping his cold hands against the heating cheeks of Mickey and bringing the brunet in for a searing kiss. 

Mickey tilted his head, wasting no time, and showing no resistance as he quickly deepened the kiss; arms loosely wrapped around Ian's waist. 

"I love you, Ian." Mickey whispered against Ian's lipsー sad and desperateー "I still love you." 

"I love you too, Mick." Ian responded, trying to bring him even closer than he already was. 

And then they were hugging. 

Tightly. 

Fearfully. 

Like if they let go, it would be the last time. 

They both refused to let it be the last time. 

"I should go home, it's late now." Mickey said, taking one step back but was still within arms reach of Ian. 

"You should come inside  _because_ it's late now." Ian countered, noting the hesitance in Mickey's eyes. "It's just me and Liam home. Fiona's staying at a friend's before coming home tomorrow for Thanksgiving. So are the others." 

Mickey stayed silent for a moment and  _then_ Ian knew what Mickey  _really_ wanted to know. "Trevor's not here either." 

"And what, spend the night here with every fuckin' Gallagher coming tomorrow?" Mickey questioned but they both knew it was just for the sake of arguing. They both knew Mickey going home now was the  _last_ thing they wanted. 

Ian smiled. "We'll sneak you out before anyone comes." He then wrapped an arm around Mickey's waist, pulling him in closer. "And... we don't have to do anything you don't wanna." 

"Why you acting like I'm some kind of fuckin' virgin for?" Mickey retorted, pushing past Ian. He climbed the stairs, hand on the front door before looking over his shoulder at Ian. "Comin' in or what?" 

Ian laughed, following Mickey inside. 

* 

"Want a beer?" Ian asked as the two of them naturally gravitated towards the kitchen. Ian opened the fridge as Mickey used the fridge light to intake the familiar surroundings of the Gallagher household. 

It was the same, just as he remembered. 

He was filled with nostalgia as he leaned against the counter. "Sure." 

Ian handed him a can before nodding his head off into the direction of the stairs that lead to the bedroom. Mickey hesitated for a moment and that didn't go unnoticed by Ian. He coughed awkwardly, opened his beer, took a small sip before heading upstairs. Ian followed behind. 

"That room there's just Liam's." Ian whispered, pointing at the room that was once shared by all four Gallagher boys. "Debbie's room is now just a guest roomー her and Carl and Franny live in an apartment in the city together with Neil." 

"The fuck's Neil?" Mickey asked. 

"Debbie's husband." Ian said. Mickey's eyes just widened. "Yeah, I know." He laughed before continuing the mini tour, "That's Fiona's room. Still the same. And this one," He stopped in front of the room parallel to Fiona's, "Another guest room. Sometimes Lip crashes here, sometimes I do. Bed's big, so." 

"You live with Lip?" Mickey asked as Ian opened the door. 

"Trevor." Ian corrected. He looked over at Mickey who looked like he tried his best to not be bothered by it. In a way, he had no right, but Ian still understood how he felt. 

After all, he heard Mickey was back living with Svetlana, and he probably felt the same way Mickey did right now. 

"Come in." Ian smiled, ushering Mickey inside the room. 

"We sleepin' in the same bed?" Mickey asked putting down his beer on the clothes drawer. Ian looked at Mickey like he was crazy. 

"It's my room that I'm letting you sleep in so yeah, we're sleeping in the same bed." Ian began to strip and Mickey couldn't help by shy away. Ian laughed again. "Not like you haven't seen me naked before." 

"I am not sleeping in the same bed as you with you naked and shit." Mickey protested. Ian stopped stripping until he was clad only in his singlet and boxers. 

"Relax, Mick." Ian said in a soothing voice. "Like I said, we don't gotta do anything." 

"Who says I wanna do anything?" Mickey retorted, sounding a little wavered. Ian found this situation amusing in a cute way.

"No one, Mick. No one." Ian said. "You should probably just... I don't know, get more comfortable? Sleeping in jeans can be a bitch sometimes." 

Mickey stared at Ian for a bit, trying to see if there's a different angle here. He knows damn well that he can hold his own when it comes to Ian but a part of him is still a little gun shy after being locked up for so long. 

This Ian is different. 

The same, but different. 

Mickey's memories of him consisted of looking out for Ian or pleasuring him and in retrospect, it looked bad. 

It wasn't, in reality.

But Mickey had every right to still have reservations and wariness. 

It's been so damn long. 

Eventually, Ian spoke up again. "Debbie's old bed is too small for me. It would be weird if everyone came home and saw me sleeping on the couch downstairs. And if Fiona saw me sleeping in her bed; I think it's obvious she'll know someone's in  _mine_. You really wanna wake up with her being the first thing you see in the morning..." Ian stepped a little closer towards Mickey. "Or me?" 

"You said this was a guest room." Mickey fought one last time. Ian cocked his head to the side. 

"Still mine." Ian said, pressing himself unashamedly against Mickey and  _fuck_ , he could  _feel it_. 

It was a little embarrassing how fast Mickey responded to the feeling of Ian _warm and hard_ against him, but before he could react, Ian moved towards the door and then he heard it. 

He heard Ian lock the door. 

"Ian." Mickey breathed out. 

"Just in case anyone comes in before we're awake." Ian assured, returning to stand back in front of Mickey. He then proceeded to remove Mickey's jacket, letting it fall down to the ground. In turn, Mickey stepped out of his boots and then Ian's hands were unbuttoning Mickey's jeans and soonー

"Shirt stays on." Mickey said. 

"Okay." Ian nodded.

"So do the boxers." 

"Okay." 

"And... and earlier," Mickey began, finally finding the courage to look up at Ian, "When you cameー Iー when you came to my work, I mean," 

Ian was laughing. "Yeah?" 

"I really haven't... It's been a while since, uh," 

Ian quickly understood where Mickey was coming from, "Oh. Oh... You mean you haven't... since... Um..." Ian stammered out, annoying Mickey.

He snapped, "Spit it out, Gallagher!" 

"You stayed celibate all this time?" Ian asked and the look Mickey gave him caused him to shiver. 

"Fuck no, are you nuts?" Mickey asked, shoving Ian a bit. "I just, I  _meant_  that... Towards the end, I didn't really... wanna." 

Now it was Ian's turn to give him a look, "You? _You?_ Mickey Milkovich? Didn't wanna have sex with anyone?" 

"Man, shut the fuck up, I didn't mean it like that!" 

"Then how do you mean it?" Ian asked, placing his hands on Mickey's hips.

Mickey sighed, "Look, Gallagher, it wasn't that I didn't wanna fuckー I justー there was no one there anymore that I wanted to..." 

"Oh."

"Yeah." 

Ian stared at Mickey for a moment before his lips broke out into a shiteating grin, "No one could've given it to you as good as I did, huh?" 

"Jesusー" Mickey almost choked, "Are you fuckin' drunk?" 

"Hammered, actually." Ian admitted. "I had one beer." 

Finally, Mickey had the courage to laugh. "Fuck, okay, look, uh, let's just go to bed?" He suggested, gesturing towards the bed. "It's late now, you drunk fuck." 

"Okay." Ian smiled. 

After settling underneath the warmth of the blankets, they decided to make out just a little bit before falling asleep in each other's arms. 

And it was like no time had separated them at all. 


	11. Chapter 11

A part of Ian believed that when he woke up, he'd wake to an empty bed. But the weight pressed against him and the soft snores from the body next to him made him release all of his worries. 

He wasn't sure what he was worried about if he found out Mickey wasn't there in the morning, but then there was that underlining fear that what had happened last night wasn't real. 

Mickey, just by staying, made it feel real. 

He really was here. And the words they've said were really  _said_. 

It held meaning. 

They love each other. 

And now they both knew it after all these years. 

As Ian watched Mickey sleep; his body half draped over his own, nothing else mattered.

He missed watching Mickey sleep. He looked so calm; so serene and so vulnerable, it warmed Ian's heart. 

He wished he could freeze frame this moment. He wished it wouldn't be the last time he'd ever get to see this. 

He knew that those wishes were nothing but just that. 

Ian knew he wasn't worth catching a break as good as this one, especially if it's with Mickey. 

He couldn't even revel a moment longer in this little universe they've carved for themselves eight years on as a loud knock on his door disrupted this euphoria. 

"Ian, you awake?" It was Lip. 

Ian chewed on his lower lip, carefully extracting himself from underneath Mickey before throwing on some sweats that were discarded on the floor. Mickey stirred a little but ultimately stayed a sleep. Ian silently preened at how cute the sight was. 

He then proceeded to open the door. "Hey." 

"Hey, man." Lip eyed him suspiciously. "Everyone's almost here. Late night or something? It's almost ten." 

"Yeah." Ian tried to piece together why everyone was  _here_ , and then it clicked. "Yeah, yeah. I, uh, had a beer or two. Stayed up." 

Lip nodded in consideration, leaning in a little closer. Ian tried to subtly jam himself between the door and frame to keep Lip from peeking in. The older Gallagher didn't seem to notice as he said, "Did, uh, was everything okay?" 

"What do you mean?" Ian asked. 

Lip shrugged, "You know, with Mickey?" 

"What...?" 

"You went to his work yesterday, remember?" Lip clarified and Ian thought his heart was going to stop. 

"Oh! Oh, yeah. Yeah. It was... Well, as you'd expect." Ian said. 

"Iー I wouldn't know what to expect, to be honest." Lip confessed. "It's been eight years. Dude was in love with you."

"Hah. Yeah." Ian replied awkwardly. Lip gave him another look of suspicion before taking a step back. 

"Get dressed? Join us? Still got shit to set up." Lip thumbed downstairs and Ian nodded immediately, anxious to get Lip away from the room. "Okay." 

Lip turned on his heel and Ian let out an uneasy breath. But just before the older Gallagher moved any further, he turned and asked, "Oh, one more thingー who's in your room?" 

Now Ian's heart  _did_ stop. "What?" 

"Trevor in there, naked or some shit?" Lip asked easily, laughing in amusement. 

"Oh, yeah." Ian played off coolly. "He's in there... sleeping. Indecent. Haha." 

Lip smiled. "Yeah,  I'm gonna ask you that again," He said and his tone was light but his words sounded menacing, "Who's in the room?" 

"It's Trevor." Ian's voice wavered. Lip huffed out, nodding his head a little before abruptly pushing past Ian and into the room. "Lip!" He whispered harshly as Lip sighed at the sight of Mickey Milkovich cuddled up in the bed sheets asleep. 

There was a moment of silence where the two of them just stood thereー Lip looking at Mickey and Ian looking at Lip and Mickey before Ian snapped back to his senses and grabbed Lip by the wrist. He tugged his brother out of the room before shutting the door close behind him, leaning on it to prevent Lip going back inside. 

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Ian." Lip finally spoke and Ian's head lolled to the side. 

"I know, I know." Ian muttered. "But... It's not what it looks like." 

"Really?" Lip asked incredulously. " _That's_ the line you're going with?" 

"There's a reason why a lot of people  _use_ that line." Ian offered weakly. 

Lip rose an eyebrow, "Yeah? And what's yours?" 

"Look, I justー I don't know." Ian said. "I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know what this is and I... I just need time." 

"Time for what?" Lip asked. "Trevor's downstairs, you idiot." 

"Fuck." 

"Yeah, fuck indeed." 

"We didn't, okay?" Ian quickly said. "We just slept. We didn't do anything." Lip rose a suspicious eyebrow and Ian immediately caved. "Okay, fine, we kissed a little. But really, that's itー just! Just, I don't know, help me get him outta here without anyone noticing?" 

"You're acting like he's some kind of fugitive." Lip jested. Ian rolled his eyes and the older Gallagher sighed. "Fine. Fine." 

"We'll talk about thisー just right now..." 

"Yeah, I get it." Lip said in defeat. But the way Ian looked at him; eyes full of concern made Lip feel a little insulted. "And no. I will not tell Trevor." 

"Thank you." 

"He's a good guy. Known him for years now. He's strong and good and he makes you happy, remember? It's what he's been doing for almost a decade." Lip began seriously. "But you're my brother I will always choose you. But figure it out, like, now? As soon as you can?  _He_ doesn't deserve this." 

"I know. I know." Ian assured. "Trevor... as soon as I know, I'll let him  _know_." 

"Wasn't talking about him." Lip said, nodding his towards the closed bedroom door. "Better not build him up just to knock him down. He's been through a lot." 

Ian looked at Lip weirdly. "Since when did you care?" 

"I don't." Lip protested. "But... He's a Milkovich." He simply said. And that reminder alone was enough to let Ian understand what he meant. "Just get dressed? Wake him up? I'll go downstairs and... deal. Whatever. No fucking, alright?" Lip added, trying to lighten the mood. Ian just nodded nonchalantly, returning back into the room. 

Lip stood in the hallway for a moment, lost in contemplation before heading back downstairs. 

* 

In the room, Ian lingered by the door, hands pressed against the wood as he watched Mickey sleep. 

Lip's interruption gave Ian a dose of reality and it wasn't the fact that Lip had done that that made him made him madー it was the fact that Ian knew how bad this was and yet his  _still_ ー 

It's because it's  _Mickey_ for fuck's sake. 

It's him. 

The kid from down the street he fell in love with all those years ago. 

The man he left back in prison with a head full of false hope. 

It was so damn easy to just forget about him. Move on. Be  _done_ with that part of his lifeー be done with Mickey. 

But it's  _Mickey_. 

That was more than enough of a reason for him to be doing what he's doing now. 

Ian knew how unfair it was on Trevorー how unfair it is on Mickey; this half-assed unknown shit wasn't acceptable. 

But with Mickey back, Ian just can't forget his roots. 

He can't forget the Southside in him. 

Ian was never built for the Southside, but that didn't give him an excuse to not  _be_ from here. 

And he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss it. 

Trevor was safe. Mickey was anything but. 

And for the past seven years, Ian was cloaked in this little bubble of a life that was deemed  _normal_. 

But  _this_ _ー_ this house, this neighbourhoodー that man sleeping in his bedー that was _his_ normal. 

And damn him if it felt so right. 

Ian heaved himself off the door, stalking closer to the bed before the mattress dipped under his weight. He ascended up, slowly peeling back the sheets off of Mickey until they bunched down at the end of Mickey's knees. 

Mouth slightly parted, Mickey stirred, falling onto his back as his head snuggled into the pillow. Ian's eyes were blown up in pure lust, his dick hardening in his boxers as he counted the seconds until Mickey drew his next breath; the way his chest rose and fell with every passing momentー the way his lips twitched and how his hand subconsciously rubbed against his stomach. 

Mickey was hard tooー and it didn't help Ian that his shirt rode up a bit, exposing his pale skin. 

Ian's eyes raked over the sight. God, he wanted Mickey so bad. 

Right here, right now. He could care less if everyone downstairs heard Mickey cry. 

Mickey was always pretty when he cried.

But the loud shrill of a child's laughter from downstairs snapped Ian back into realityー  _again_. 

Inhaling sharply, he pressed a burning hand against Mickey's shoulder, jostling him a bit. When Mickey didn't wake, Ian leaned in close, pressing his lips against Mickey's cheek before whispering, "Hey, Milkovich. Time to wake up." 

Another warm touch to Mickey's other cheek, the brunet finally woke. "Hmm?" 

Ian chuckled. "Hey." 

"What time's it...?" Mickey asked, voice heavily clogged in sleep. He palmed at his eyes as Ian settled beside him.

"Ten." Ian relayed, brushing back Mickey's hair. 

"Fuck," Mickey groaned. He then caught sight of the tent in his boxers and immediately shied away from Ian's touch, reaching down to draw the sheets back over him. 

"Who's acting like a virgin now?" Ian joked, earning a glare from Mickey who mumbled incoherently. "Lip knows you're here." Ian informed. 

"Yeah?" Mickey said. 

"Everyone's downstairs already." Ian continued. "And Trevor's..." 

"I get it, Gallagher." Mickey quietly interrupted. "Time for me to go." 

"I'm really glad you came." Ian said, trying to make it seem like Mickey being here wasn't an inconvenience. It wasn't, and Mickey smiled a little. 

"Me too." Mickey agreed. 

Then naturally, their lips met and they kissed chastely. 

All lips, all love. 

It was nice.

Ian licked his lips before rubbing his thumb under Mickey's eye. "We'll get you out through the back." Ian informed, rolling out of bed. He swooped down and collected Mickey's discarded clothes. Mickey stretched himself out before sliding down to plant his feet on the floor. Ian handed Mickey his pants and jacket in which Mickey took and began to dress himself up with. Ian, in that time, found on more presentable clothes to throw on and they changed in silence. 

After Mickey slipped his boots back on, another knock on the door was heard. It was Fionaー she opened the door as soon as she knocked. "Hey." 

Ian whipped around, looking at his sister like a deer in headlights. "Fiona." 

"Lipー" She began before shrugging, "Took everyone out to the front yard to set up Christmas decorations." 

The look of concern on both Ian and Mickey's face changed to one of confusion, a look Fiona understood the meaning of. "Yeah, I know. But it's the only excuse we could find. Saves time for later?" She offered. "House's clear, if you guys wanna..." 

"Yeah." Ian breathed out, looking at Mickey who nodded once. 

The three of them headed downstairsー Ian and Mickey walking towards the back door in the kitchen with Fiona heading towards the living room to make sure no one comes back in just yet. 

In a hushed voice, Ian asked, "So... are we gonna see each other again?" 

Mickey looked up at Ian, lips in a slight pout. "Dunno." He shrugged. 

"Okay." Ian looked a tad disappointed, like a kicked puppy which caused Mickey to sigh. 

"Maybe." He re-answered, wrapping a hand around the back of Ian's head and pulling him in for another kiss. 

Fiona watched the exchange between the two, unable to help the warm bubbly feeling of nostalgia in her chest. And then Mickey was gone, leaving Ian with the most happiest face she's ever seen him have in the longest time ever. 

*

"Where have you been?" It was the first thing Svetlana asks when Mickey returns back home. 

"Nowhere." Mickey blatantly lies, knowing it's enough to get her off his back. "We doin' this?" He asked. 

"Yes." Svetlana said, walking into the kitchen to retrieve a tray that held a marinated turkey. 

"Where's the kid?" Mickey asked, moving to help her with it. She takes a step back. 

"Downstairs. We set up almost everything." And there was a ice in her voice. 

"What's your deal?" He snapped, eyebrows raised. 

"You make Yevgeny sad." She quickly informed, "Thought you would not show. So did I." 

"I'm here now." Mickey offered. 

"Yes." Svetlana said. They stared at each other before she sighed. "I take this downstairs. You shower. No smelling like dick around your son." 

He flipped her off and she laughed, heading downstairs carefully with the turkey on the tray.

After Mickey showered and changed, smelling like anything  _but_ dick, he headed down to the garage and into the large industrial kitchen often used for the employees to cook lunch and whatnot. The only thing it was used there the microwave and kettle however, despite it's lack of being used, it was relatively  _clean_. 

Good enough for them, as long as they cleaned it all up afterwards. 

Yevgeny sat by the dining table Charlie would normally beー he looked preoccupied with drawing something. But as soon as Mickey was in the vicinity, Yevgeny dropped everything and screamed out, " _Dad!_ " 

The kid scrambled off his chair, running as fast as he could towards Mickey. Mickey couldn't help but smile, scooping up his son into a big hug, "Hey." 

"Mama said you weren't gonna come!" He said, wrapping his arms tightly around Mickey's neck.

"Yeah? Well mama should learn to keep her mouth shut, huh?" Mickey said, glaring at Svetlana who glared back at him. 

Svetlana was a good cook. It wasn't high class chef quality, but she could make a mean meal. But that didn't mean Mickey faltered behind; the two of them helped each other, ordering each other in the most civil way possible as they cooked to the sound of soft tunes of the radio. Yevgeny helped bridge the awkwardness that still lingered between Mickey and Svetlana, bringing out a harmonious atmosphere between the three of them. 

And soon, a feast cooked by three made for  _many_ laid itself on the dining table. 

"I don't even remember buying any of this shit." Mickey commented as they sat at the table; Mickey sat across from Svetlana with Yevgeny at the footー another bridging gesture. 

If it weren't for Yevgeny, Mickey and Svetlana wouldn't have stayed in this position. 

In the end, Yevgeny's the reason for this  _family_ as fucked up as it is. 

"Is because I buy." Svetlana said, setting out the plates and cutlery. 

"Yeah, with  _my_ money." He muttered and she could only laugh. 

"Now we have to say what we are grateful for!" Yevgeny suddenly chirped, just as both Mickey and Svetlana reached out to dump food onto the plates. They stared at each other, then at Yevgeny who looked at his parents expectantly. 

"Papa will go first." Svetlana said, throwing Mickey under the bus. Mickey mouthed out profanities through gritted teeth as Yevgeny turned to look at his father excitedly. 

"How about mama goes instead? You know, ladies first?" Mickey curved. Svetlana kicked him under the table as Yevgeny nodded enthusiastically. 

"Dad's right!" Yevgeny agreed, turning his attention towards his mother. "It's polite to let ladies go first!" 

"Oh, is it?" Svetlana asked, trying to hide the sourness in her voice. Mickey just smiled smugly at her. "Okay. Fine. I am grateful for food. Grateful for life. Grateful for water. Grateful for airー" 

"Mama, be serious!" Yevgeny berated. 

"Yeah, this is some  _serious stuff_." Mickey mocked. Svetlana sighed. 

* 

After putting the leftovers in whatever containers they could find, Mickey and Svetlana commenced doing the dishes in the downstairs industrial kitchen. 

Yevgeny, after stuffing himself full, was carried upstairs by Mickey and immediately fell asleep on Svetlana's bed. 

"I go to George's house soon. You look after Yevgeny." Svetlana said as she soaped up the water. 

"Still wooing the old fuck?" Mickey asked, standing by her. She hummed. 

"I tell him about Yev. We will see what happens. If all goes good, we marry." She began scrubbing the plates, handing them over to Mickey to rinse. 

Mickey nodded, taking the plates and running them under the tap. 

"So, you see orange boy last night?" Svetlana asked, knowing the answer already. "You sleep with him?" 

"None of your business." Mickey mumbled. 

"I tell you my business." She countered. Mickey snorted. She looked at him before shrugging. "Nothing will change with you and Yevgeny." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"You love our son." She stated. "I will not take him away from you. You know why I am doing this, right?" She asked in reference to her looking for someone to marry. 

And of course he did; Svetlana needed to stay here in the states. She  _could_ take Yevgeny with her back to Russia, but fuck it if Mickey wasn't going to fight. 

Yeah, Mickey would fight for Yevgeny because Svetlana was rightー he had fallen in love with his son. He  _knew_ him. He  _spoke_ to Yevgeny. And even though he was still getting to know his son, screw her getting deported being the reason he won't ever learn anything more than this. 

But a part of Mickey believed that yes, staying in the States would be good for her, but also for Mickey. So he wouldn't  _have_ to fight for Yevgeny. No need to put the kid through emotional hurtー not now that he  _knows_ and  _remembers_ his dad beyond the bars of jail. 

"We didn't do anything." Mickey suddenly said, voice low. Svetlana stayed quiet as he continued, "We just talked. And just slept together. Like, not  _sleep_ together but just  _sleep_  ー" And the more he opened his mouth, the more he regretted ever saying anything in the first place. He felt a little stupid, and Svetlana suspected a little more than them just  _sleeping_ was all that happened. She let it slide.

"You gonna see him again?" She asked, but Mickey just shrugged. That, she believed. "You still love him?" 

Mickey inhaled deeply. "Yeah." 

Svetlana hummed.

*

It was almost one p.m. when Lip and Ian sat out in the van, smoking. After dodging the bullet earlier, Ian progressed quietly into the scene; lunch was typical with the normal traditions and soon, the festivities migrated from the front yard to the living room to the kitchen and now into the backyard. 

Light music blared from the sound system in Carl's car as Carl, Kev, Trevor and Liam played football. Fiona and Vee sat out on the lawn chairs chatting with beers in their hands as Debbie played with the young girlsー Franny, Amy and Gemma. It was a rather nice day, despite the season. It seemed like a waste for them to spend it inside. 

Ian and Lip shared a blunt, staring off into nothing as the background noise of the others playing around buzzed around. 

Lip then spoke up, "So." 

"Still don't know." Ian said, knowing full well what Lip wanted to talk about. 

"S'not like I expected you to know straight awayー" 

"You did say  _soon_." Ian recalled. "Kinda seemed like today you want an answer." 

"It's not me you're fuckin' around with." Lip said, exhaling the smoke before passing the blunt to Ian. Ian took it, holding the smoke in until his lungs burned. Lip sighed. "Look, I'm just saying, it'll get messy if you don't figure it out soon. Could lose one. Could lose the other. Fuck, it's most likely you'll lose both." 

"Or I could keep them both." Ian said. Lip looked at him suspiciously. 

"Are you that stupid?" The older Gallagher asked. 

"No, just high." Ian joked, passing back the blunt. Lip laughed. 

He took a drag, "No, but seriously dude, I care about you. You're my little brother. And I don't want you fucking this up, whatever it is you choose."

"What do you think I should do?" Ian asked, unsure of why his brother's opinion mattered in this situation. They both knew that Ian was just going to end up doing whatever he wanted. Maybe it was the weed that made him ask the question. 

Lip sighed. "The way I see it, you have two optionsー" 

"No fucking shit," Ian mumbled.

Lip ignored him and continued, "You could either stay with a good thing you got going on for seven fuckin' years  _or_ you could go back into the past and bring the relationship into the future." 

"Sounds gay." Ian said. 

" _You're_ gay." Lip retorted. 

They both laughed. 

"You do see why this is hard for me, right?" Ian soon said. 

"I actually don't." Lip challenged. Ian looked at the older Gallagher in confusion. Lip sighed. "Ian, you  _moved on_. You broke up with Mickey. You found Trevor and you guys fell in love. You were fine without Mickey and it wasn't like you didn't have a choiceー you  _had_ a choice and you chose to leave him. And that was that. It's not that complicated." 

Now, Ian felt sobered up. He was speechless, but it wasn't like he had anything to sayー what could he say to that? 

Lip was right. 

He was  _always_ right. 

Ian hated that. And it showed. 

Lip clicked his tongue, hating the pathetic look Ian wore. "But I guess I  _do_ understand why you think it's hard." 

"Eight years was a long fuckin' time for me to wait. And that was  _if_ he could get out at that time." Ian said. 

"And I don't blame you for not being able to wait." Lip assured. "But, Ian, you can't really expect him to run back into your arms now that it's convenient for you. It's not fair on him, and it's not fair on Trevor." 

"I didn't say I wanted him to come back to meー" 

"Then the fuck are you doing?" 

"I said  _I don't know_ , fucking hell, Lip!" Ian snapped. "I thought I was over him. I  _was_. And I'm so happy with Trevor. But just... just seeing him. It just made me remember... Made me remember how much in love I was with him. How much I  _am_ in love with him." He admitted.

"Jesus  _Christ,_ Ian." Lip groaned. "Whatever, man. It's your life." He said, seeming to have given up on trying to make Ian  _choose_. 

The brothers looked at each other, trying to understand the meaning of this conversation; trying to understand each other's point of view. But only Lip could see it. He threw away the rest of the blunt after snubbing it out and said, "You always go back to him, huh?" 

Ian smiled small to himself. "I guess I do." 

After all, they were soulmates. 

"What I said earlier this morningー" Lip began. "I won't tell anyone. And I don't think Fi would either. Not like she's one to talk anyway." 

"Gallagher's don't snitch." Ian said. 

"Gallagher's don't snitch." Lip repeated. "Especially when it comes to family. So what are you gonna do now?" 

Ian chewed his inner cheek in contemplation. 

The only thing he could think about was seeing Mickey again. 

* 

The thing about wanting to do something and actually _doing_ it really caused Ian a lot of unnecessary stress.  

A lot of guilt crept up on his conscience as he returned back home to his apartment up Northside with Trevor after Thanksgiving. It was probably something wired in the human psyche where  _out of sight, out of mind_ really clouded people's judgements on a situation, and being with Trevor, and  _just_ Trevor, made Ian forget about cheating on him with Mickey. 

The way Trevor spokeー his smile and his energyー reignited the flame inside Ian's chest that reminded him that  _yes, the past seven years were beautiful_. And going out to clubs on Friday night, taking shots, dancing and screwing in the bathroom stall reminded Ian of why he fell in love with Trevor in the first place. Of why he stayed with this man out of all the people he could've been with for so damn long.  

He was the man who reminded him what it was to have a  _life_. To have a life with no problems; just them living in the moment, having fun and being  _young_. 

And even though they've agedー nothing has changed the flame inside Ian. 

Except  _now_ , his heart burned for  _two_. 

It was clear Saturday night when Trevor went back to his hometown to spend some time with his folksー his way of making up for it for missing Thanksgiving for the first time in a long time. 

And when Trevor left for the weekend, Ian's mind filled with thoughts of Mickey. 

Mickey, Mickey, Mickey. 

He wanted to see him again. 

He wondered if he should callー text.  _Ask_ if it was okay to meet. But as he stared at the time on his phoneー almost ten p.m.ー he tried his best to put the idea to rest. 

They saw each other a little over a week ago, but now with Trevor goneー Ian wondered how long he had gone without thinking about him. 

Mickey was all he thought about ever since Debbie told the family she saw him. 

He hated this confusion. He hated how anxious it made him feelー how shitty the situation it was when it really didn't  _have to be_. 

And he hated that he didn't call. But he was nowー dialling Mickey's number, he called the brunet. 

" _Gallagher?_ " Mickey answered, voice clad in sleep. 

"Shit, sorry, did I wake you?" Ian asked. 

" _No. No. Iー nah. What's up?_ " 

"You busy?"

" _Yeah, it's ten thirty-five p.m. on a Saturdayー just about to go for a fuckin' runー of course I'm not busy._ " Mickey joked, sounding like he got up from lying down. " _Why_ _?_ " 

"You alone?" Ian asked, and he rolled his eyesー what a stupid question that was. 

" _No. Well, it's just me and the kid._ " 

"Where's Svetlana?" 

" _Out. Dunno where. Some guy's place, I guess. Who the fuck knows?_ " And then Mickey heard a car drive past through the phone. " _Where are you?_ " 

It was silent on the other side for a moment before Ian said, "I'm kinda downstairs." 

" _What?_ " Mickey asked. " _What do youー what does that mean, you're downstairs_ _?_   _Where?_ " 

"Your place." Ian sheepishly answered. "Come get me? It's fuckin' cold." 

" _Are you fucking nuts?_ " Mickey asked. " _Jesus fuckin' Christ, Ian._ " And then the line cut off. Ian chuckled lightly to himself, shoving his hands into his parker, snuggling into his scarf. A few minutes later, Mickey's in sight, grumpy as ever. 

"The fuck you doing here? It's late. You walked?" Mickey askedー he had a cigarette in between his lips. He offered it to Ian who took it. 

"You see a fuckin' car around?" Ian teased. Mickey rolled his eyes. 

"Get your ass up stairs." 

* 

"How've you been?" Ian asked as soon as they entered the building. Walking up the stairs towards the apartment wasn't much of a mission, but it was hard without any light to guide their way. However, once Mickey opened the apartment door and the light from the television glowed in the dark, Ian noticed how red Mickey's skin had gotten at the bite of the cold. 

"Good." Mickey said, immediately burying himself back under the blankets on the couch. Ian toed off his shoes and peeled off his parker and scarf after closing the door shut behind him. He settled under the blankets next to Mickey who moved to give him some space. "You?" 

"Yeah, I've been good." Ian said, leaning in to kiss Mickey on the lips like it was the most natural thing for him to do. Needless to say, Mickey was stunned, but didn't reject him. "Shit, sorry." Ian quickly apologised but Mickey shook his head. 

"No, it's fine." The brunet replied. He nodded his head over to where Yevgeny was, sleeping on Svetlana's bed. "It's justー I put him to sleep like, ten minutes ago." 

"Only recently?" Ian questioned, following Mickey's line of sight. "Ain't it a little late for him?" 

Mickey laughed softly. "Yeah, well, I took the kid out today. Gave him a shitload of sugar and he crashed in the afternoon. Woke up around eight, had a late dinner and only just then went back to sleep. Trying not to fuck up his sleeping habits or Svetlana will kill me." 

"Look at you." Ian said with a smug smile. Mickey withdrew his hand from underneath the blanket to flip Ian off. "So, you, uh, sleep on the couch?" 

"I'm not sleeping with Svetlana." Mickey said. "Not gonna fit on that bunk either." 

Ian shrugged. "Dunno. Looks like you could." 

"You fucker." Mickey laughed, hitting Ian playfully. "Don't suppose you wanna sleep here tonight?" 

"Didn't really know you didn't have a room." Ian admitted, glancing around the small apartment. This was so like Mickey though, to have a place like this. 

"Should've called."

"Yeah, I did." 

"Yeah, not when you're already fuckin'  _here_." Mickey said, standing. He took one of the many blankets up with him, wrapping it around his body before walking towards the kitchen. "Want a beer or something?" 

"Sure." Ian said, following Mickey. "Would you have let me stay the night if I called?" 

"No." Mickey said, but he was smiling. He handed Ian a beer. "You see any place for you to crash?" 

"Well, I mean, if you're taking suggestionsー" 

"I'm  _not_." 

"You could put Yevgeny in his bed up there," Ian pointed, "And we could sleep  _there_. Just like back at my place." 

"Why'd you come?" Mickey changed the subject, opening his beer. 

"Wanted to see you." Ian easily answered. "I missed you." Mickey made a non-committal noise. "You miss me?" 

"I saw you like, last week." Mickey said, hiding behind his beer. 

"But did you miss me?" And Ian wasn't sure where this newfound confidence cameー it was like he was fifteen again, visiting Mickey for the first time when he was in juvie. 

"There's no way to convince you to go home now, huh?" 

"It's late?" Ian cocked his head. "And it's dark and coldー you'd really make me walk all the way back home in the freezing cold?" 

"You're a fuckin' dick." Mickey mumbled. Ian laughed. "Shh! You'll wake the kid up!" He whispered harshly. Ian clasped his free hand over his mouth. 

"Kinda no place for us to be alone here." Ian said. "Unless that bathroom got enough room for two grown men?" 

"The fuck makes you think I wanna be alone with you right now?" Mickey challenged, eyebrows raised. Ian just gave him a  _look_ and Mickey immediately caved. "Fー grab those blankets over there." He commanded. Ian squinted at Mickey but nonetheless complied. Mickey began layering up, putting on socks, a long sleeve and a jumper over his current sleepwear of a singlet and sweats. 

"Where we going?" Ian asked, following Mickey to the opposite end of the studio. 

"Lemme show you something." Mickey simply said, opening the door next to the bathroom. 

*

Mickey lead Ian outside onto the roof deckー a gust of wind greeting them as they stepped outside. 

"Holy shit!" Ian shivered, clutching the blankets close to his chest. Mickey laughed, leading him towards the couch he discarded out. He gestured for Ian to take a seat. "How romantic." 

"Fuck off." Mickey retorted, sitting next to Ian. They cloaked themselves under the blankets before staring out into the darkness of the night, sipping their beers. 

"This is nice." Ian said, settling into a comfortable atmosphere. "Reminds me of the dugoutsー when you just got outta juvie and we went there at night." 

"Yeah, and we banged." Mickey said, amused. Ian nodded. "Good times, huh?" 

"Easier times." Ian amended. "Hey, you sayin' I'm gonna sleep out here tonight?" 

Mickey looked at Ian before pointing at a mattress a few feet away from the couch. "Got a bed and everything here." 

Ian looked at what Mickey was pointing at before shoving Mickey. "Wow." 

"Kidding." Mickey smiled, shoving Ian back. "I don't know. You can take the couch, I guess. I'll crash with Yev." 

"Seriously?" 

"What? You wanna sleep with him?" Mickey jested. 

"Wanna sleep with you." Ian quipped cheekily. Mickey was grateful it was darkー he'd rather die than let Ian see him blush. 

Ian suddenly got up, putting his beer down on top of the discarded bedside table. Mickey eyed him suspiciously, watching as the redhead walked over towards the mattress, dragging it out to the middle of the roof deck, letting it fall onto the ground. He then returned in front of the confused brunet, subsequently snatching away the piles of blankets off of Mick. 

Mickey spilled a bit of his beer, "What the fー _Gallagher!_ " He called out, watching as Ian headed back to the bed. "The  _fuck_ you doing! It's fuckin' cold!" 

"Then you better get your ass over here!" Ian shouted back childishly, laying the blankets out on the mattress before tucking himself under them. Mickey sat there dumbfounded, shivering a little. He then grumbled to himself as he got up and trudged over to where Ian was after putting down his own beer.

He towered over the redhead who used his hands as pillows. "The fuck you doing?" He repeated. 

"Just spreading blankets. Looking for shooting stars." Ian replied. Mickey kicked the mattress, causing Ian to laugh. "C'mon. Join me." 

Mickey sighed, rubbing his temple before deciding to do just that. 

It was surprisingly calm as Mickey settled under the blankets, eyes gazing straight up at the dark sky. There were little to no stars, but still, it was nice to look at. 

"It's good, huh?" Ian said. Mickey just hummed. "Too gay for you or something?" 

"Fuck yeah." Mickey joked, turning his head to look at Ian. Ian looked at him back, smiling. "This the gay shit you wanted to do back then?" 

"You were the one who suggested it, not me." Ian recalled defensively. "Who knew you were a romanticist?" 

"Shut up, I didn't know what I was back then." Mickey said, turning his head to look back up at the sky. "'sides a fag beating homo." 

"Come a long way since then." 

"Yeah." Mickey shrugged. "All 'cause of you, tough guy." He said shyly. 

And then Ian was hovering over Mickey, lips on his, kissing the brunet slowly. Mickey sighed into it, placing a hand on Ian's cheek to deepen the kiss. 

Ian, propped up on one elbow, used his other hand to caress Mickey's flank, earning a few moans from the man underneath him. Ian then moved to straddle one of Mickey's thighs, both hands now kneading the flesh of Mickey's hips. 

Mickey threaded his fingers through Ian's hair, tugging lightly every few times whenever Ian did something he liked. 

Ian knew, like a sixth sense, what Mickey liked. And what Mickey  _loved._

"Can I?" Ian breathed out against Mickey's lips as his fingers danced around the waistband of Mickey's sweats. 

Mickey just nodded once and it was enough for Ian to peel down Mickey's sweats and boxers. Mickey lifted his hips to make it easier and soon, he was naked from the waist down. Ian readjusted the blankets so that they still covered them from the coldー but they were both  _far_ from being that. 

Ian wrapped his fingers around Mickey's shaft, tugging his dick slowly to a full erection. Mickey was like pudding in his hand by then with precome trickling down from the head. 

"You're fast." Ian observed, pressing his forehead against Mickey's. "Already about to explode." 

"God, you're annoying." Mickey said, but no louder than a whisper. He brushed his nose against Ian's, blinding searching for his lips. Ian chuckled, indulging the brunet in another kiss, still firmly stroking Mickey's dick at a steady pace. 

"Can I finger you?" Ian asked before kissing along Mickey's jaw. He heard Mickey swallow deeply, panting and bucking his hips up whenever Ian stroked him a certain way. 

And then Mickey finally said, "Please." 

Ian smirked, straightening himself up. The blanket dropped off him, exposing him and Mickey to the chilly air. Mickey's erection flagged a little as Ian used his free hand to fish around his back pocket for a small bottle of lube. 

Upon hearing the cap snap open, Mickey chuckled. "You fucker." 

"I swear I didn't plan this." Ian said, obviously lying. He took his hand off Mickey's cock to lather his fingers in the lube. 

"My dick's gonna snap off, it's so fuckin' cold." Mickey said, replacing Ian's hand to stroke himself. Ian gulped at the sight, dropping the lube onto the bed before grabbing the blankets with his dry hand. 

"Alright, alright, relax." Ian said, pulling it back over him as he hovered back over Mickey. "Spread your legs a little." He said, this time a little more softly. 

Mickey looked off to the side, breathing in deeply as he did what he was told. And then he felt a finger prod at his hole, slowly entering in. 

Mickey's eyes shut closed, revelling in the feeling of the pleasurable intrusion. Ian, on the other hand, had his eyes wide open. 

Mick was  _tight_. 

"Jesus, Mickey." Ian swore, working his finger in and out. 

"Iknowshutthefuckup," Mickey mumbled, stroking himself faster as his other hand held onto Ian. "Put two in now." 

"Fuck." Ian's head went dizzy at Mickey's straightforwardness. He complied when he felt Mickey loosen up, slipping in the second finger. "That good?" 

"Yeah." Mickey breathed, canting his hips. "Go faster." 

"Stop talking." Ian said, pressing his lips back onto Mickey's. Mickey never used to have a mouth on himー  _never_. Their sex often consisted of moans, groans and the occasional praiseー but never this. Never any demandsー not like these. 

And something as simple as Mickey being commanding made Ian strain in his pants. 

Oh how he wanted to relieve the pressure, but at the same time, he just wanted to make Mickey feel good. And _just_ Mickey. And when his fingers  _finally_ brushed against Mickey's prostate, that's what Ian set out to do. 

"Don't touch yourself." Ian whispered against Mickey's lips, rubbing the spot that made Mickey mewl. "I want to make you come just like this." 

"Fuck, Ian." Mickey groaned, but he complied, settling his other hand over Ian's shoulders, hugging him tight. 

Soon, Ian slipped in another finger, thrusting them in and out of the brunetー curling his fingers at a relentless pace. Ian felt like he could finish right then and there with just the sound of Mickey's voice. He didn't care if he got made fun for it laterー this was too hot, too intense for him to not give a shit. But then he felt something  _wet_ drop onto the back of his head.

At first, Ian didn't pay it any mind. He was too focused on making Mickey come. 

But it was soon too  _hard_ to ignore and then he realisedー it began to  _rain_. 

"Shit." Ian said, looking up at the skyー the reason there were little to no stars was because the fucking _clouds_ covered them. The rain pelted heavilyー no sprinklesー just a sudden downpour. 

Ian removed his fingers out from Mickey, but that's all that he could doー Mickey immediately reached down and grabbed Ian's wrist. "No, don't stop." 

"But Mickー" 

"Ian, I swear to God, if you stop right nowー" Mickey's eyes snapped open, seeming to not care that they were soaked almost instantly. "I'm gonna come. Justー just finish me off." He pleaded. 

How could Ian say no to that?

Ian returned his fingers back inside Mickey, kissing and stroking and thrusting his fingers in and out, almost  _milking_ Mickey's prostate until he finally spilledー hot white strips of come staining his jumper and Ian's hand. 

They were both wet, but Ian had never felt so hot in his entire life. 

Mickey eventually opened his eyes again, panting heavily. Ian stared down at Mickey who returned his gazeー eyes searching for something unknown. 

And then Mickey started laughing. 

"What?" Ian asked, unable to fight back a smile. 

"Holy shit." Mickey simply said in between his fit and Ian soon began laughing for no reason at all. 

"What are we doing?" Ian asked, bringing his sticky hand out from under the blankets. He used the rain to wash it off and Mickey's laughter only hardened. Like it was the most funniest thing he's ever seen. 

"I don't fuckin' know!" Mickey replied, wiping his face, shaking. Neither knew if it was because he was laughing too much or because he was getting cold again.

And then they settled, kissing each other again under the the night sky that poured down rain on them. 

Not a single care in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece: [IN THE MORNING](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8537986).


	12. Chapter 12

There was a point somewhere in Mickey and Svetlana's relationship where he  _knew_ she just wasn't in the mood for their daily banter. 

It became clear when she came back home from her weekend away withー George, was it? 

Mickey didn't really say much at firstー he was still floating in the clouds after Ian showed up unexpectedly, and he was preoccupied the entire week with work that suddenly piled out of nowhere. 

But when Friday arrived, Svetlana's evident frustrations rubbed off on Mickey and for some reason,  _he_ snapped first. 

It happened when Svetlana was mashing potatoes rather _agressively_  for dinner, muttering a litany of Russian under her breath. 

"Fuck's up with you?" Mickey asked from his spot on the couch. Yevgeny, who sat at his desk under the bunk, presumably doing his homework, looked up at Mickey. The same couldn't be said about Svetlana who continued to mash the vegetable like she was pulverising meat. " _Svetlana_ _!_ " Mickey tried again. 

"What!" She growled, not looking at him.

"What's your deal?" He asked, standing now. He walked over towards her. "Why you acting like you wanna kill someone?"

"Maybe because I do!" She said, _now_ looking at him. Mickey flinched a little bit didn't back down, taking the bowl of potatoes and the wooden spoon away from her grasp. He set it down on the kitchen counter before opening the mini and handing her a beer. She eyed it suspiciously. 

"What happened on the weekend?" Mickey asked, urging her to take it.

Begrudgingly, she did. "Oh, now you want to know?"

"No, I'm just asking for no fuckin' reason!" He replied sarcastically. Svetlana clicked her tongue, opening her beer and almost drinking the whole damn thing in one sip. She gasped, crushing the can and throwing it in the general direction of the sink.

"George, no good." She spat out.

"Yeah, I fuckin' figured thatー why?"

"I tell him about Yevgeny." Svetlana began.

"Doesn't like kids?"

"Not only thatー" Svetlana pointed her finger at nothing in particular, lips curling in distaste as she spoke. "He says Yevgeny makes me look  _old_. Older than I am. I am thirty-one but look like twenty-five! He does not care in the beginning but  _now_ , oh  _now_ he gives shit! He is almost sixty-five!" 

"Jesus." Mickey sighed. 

"And then he says I deceive him, I am a fake for not telling him I have child. Said it is  _ugly._ Says I am  _ugly_. Am I ugly?" She asked, looking at Mickey with daggers in her eyes.

Mickey put his hands up in surrender. "Not answering that." 

She rolled her eyes, clicking her tongue again. "You are gay, not blind. Tell me, Mickey. Am I ugly?" 

"No, you're not ugly." Mickey sighed. 

"So I am pretty, yes?" She confirmed. 

"You're not  _ugly_." Because that's all Mickey could manage in a form of a compliment, especially if it's towards Svetlana. 

"He screwed me over, saying he does not care about anything but me! Says we are going to marry in the New Year! Fucking piece of shit!" Svetlana growled and Mickey refrained from saying anything insensitive. 

If looks could kill. 

Mickey, however, knew he had to say  _something_ ー Svetlana was on a war path and he needed to calm her down. 

He used to be able to do that when she freaked out. Her freaking out stressed Mickey out, he could get ulcers. 

Sighing, he asked, "When's your visa expire?" 

Svetlana inhaled deeply. "Nevermind that old fuck," She said. "I will try the other one." And Mickey wasn't sure if it was what he said that triggered something in Svetlana to calm herself in a matter of seconds, but she looked moderately relaxed. 

"Right." Mickey said, watching her return back to mashing the potatoes. "Forgot you had two." 

*

"You're up early." Ian said, shuffling out of the bedroom and down the hall towards the kitchen. Trevor occupied the kitchen, listening to his phone that was plugged into the AUX cord by the speakers. 

"Felt like making you breakfast before I go." Trevor said. They kissed as greeting before Ian moved around to pour himself some coffee. 

"Where you going?" Ian asked, hoisting himself up to sit on the kitchen counter. He sipped his coffee as he watched Trevor cook. 

"The new house for troubled youth's opening up today, remember?" Trevor informed, removing the bacon off the skillet with the spatula. He put it in a pile next to the eggs. 

"Oh, yeah, shit." Ian said, vaguely recalling that. "Want me to come with?" 

Trevor shook his head, "Nah. You had a late shift. You should get some rest." 

"Got tomorrow off, though." Ian said. "I can rest then?" 

"What if they call you in?" Trevor turned off the stove, carrying the plates of food in both hands. He walked over to Ian, sliding himself in between the redhead's thighs. "What if they need you to save some lives?" He asked, a smile on his lips. Ian leaned forward, kissing that smile. 

"You sure?" Ian asked one last time. Trevor nodded. 

"I'm sure." He confirmed with words. "Come eat." He said, walking towards the dining table to set their breakfast down. 

Ian slipped down off the counter, walking over towards Trevor before he heard his phone ringing in the bedroom. 

"See?" Trevor said, raising an eyebrow. "Could be them right now!" He joked, laughing as Ian begrudgingly headed back into the room to fetch his phone. 

Rubbing his face in slight frustration, he removed the device from where it was charging and answered the phone, "Gallagher speaking." 

" _Ian?_ " 

"Mickey?" Ian removed the phone from his ear to check the caller IDー yeah, it was Mickey. "What's up?" He asked, his voice hushed. 

" _Hey, uh, you busy today?_ " 

Ian looked around for some reason, then peered out the bedroom door before closing it shut. "Uh, no. No, I'm not. Why?" 

" _Wanna hang? Need to let out some steamーthinking of going back to our place._ " 

Ian rose a brow. "Our place?" 

Mickey stayed silent on the other line, like he had just realised what he said. 

"Mickey?" Ian tried. He heard Mickey grunt. 

" _Uh, yeah. You know. The dugouts._ " 

Now, Ian couldn't stop smiling. "Yeah, yeah sure. I'll see you in an hour?" 

" _See you then_." And then Mickey hung up. 

"Our place, huh?" Ian said to himself, inhaling and exhaling deeply before heading back outside to eat breakfast with his boyfriend. 

* 

"Hey." Mickey greeted once Ian was in sight. 

"You wait long?" Ian asked, handing Mickey a backpack. Mickey took it as Ian hoisted himself up on a platform to jump the fence. Mickey followed soon after, jumping down on the other side of the dugouts and into the wing. 

"Nah, just got here a couple minutes ago." Mickey said, putting the bag down on the bench. He then surveyed the areaー "Fuck, it's still the same." 

"Yeah, it's been a while since I've been here too." Ian moved to sit on the bench area underneath the shade with Mickey right behind him. Mickey then unzipped Ian's bag, checking the contentsー a couple cans of beer, some chips and Ian's medication amongst other thingsー but those were what caught his mind at first. 

He quickly glanced at Ian before handing him a beer. Ian took it and smiled awkwardly as Mickey got one out for himself, setting the bag back down on the bench beside him. 

They drank in silence, looking out onto the field beyond them. Being a Saturday, it was filled with kids, parents and petsー definitely not a place for them to do anything they did the _last time_ they were here. 

But this silence between them was comfortable; being in each other's company was comfortable. 

It made Mickey almost forget how much he wanted to let out steamー that is, until Ian reminded him. 

"So, what's up with you?" Ian asked. "Everything alright?" 

"Huh?" Mickey said. "Oh, uh, yeah. Kinda. I don't know. Just didn't wanna be at home today. Skipped work too." 

"You work weekends?" 

"Yeah, I do." Mickey replied. "Well, just recently but a couple kids heardー apprenticesー heard that I was starting work on the weekends so they begged our boss to work weekends too. So we're fully staffed with not much work to doー I mean there was a lot of work during the week, but we... we... what?" 

Mickey's sentence trailed off as he noticed Ian watching him intently as he spoke, making him feel a little funny. 

"Nothing." Ian said, smiling. 

"Why you lookin' at me like that then?" He asked, drinking his beer to avoid showing how awkward he felt. 

"I like how you're unloading on me. It's nice." Ian confessed. "We never really spoke much back then. I mean, not like this, anyway." 

"Yeah, well our weekends usually consisted of eating, conning and banging." Mickey recalled. 

"The glory days," Ian said. 

"The glory days." Mickey repeated. They clanked their cans together in cheers before laughing at that toast. 

"But thisー this is nice, isn't it?" Ian said. "Why didn't you wanna be at home today?" He asked, steering the conversation back on track. 

Mickey looked at his now empty beer can, shrugging a little. "Svetlanaー she's stressing me out." Ian looked at Mickey as prompt for him to continue. Mickey sighed, "So, she's been seeing these guysー fuckin' sugar daddies or some shit, and this was before I uh, we started living together so I can't really..." Mickey began, unsure of why he had to explain himself. "Anyway, she's been trying to get married to one of themー" 

"She has more than one?" Ian interrupted. 

"I'm guessing she narrowed it down to twoー well,  _one_ now." Mickey said. "The guy, whatever the fuck's his name, was gonna marry her so she can stay in the states. I'm guessing he doesn't know she's sorta illegal here or that her visa's about to expire, but he screwed her over and now she's justー she's killing potatoes!" Mickey gestured wildly. 

Saying it out loud, it sounded stupid for him to get so worked over it, but it also in a way, lifted a lot of stress he held in. He looked at Ian for somethingー anything in the form of a response so he doesn't feel stupid for feeling this certain way. 

Ian just smiled again. "It's about Yevgeny for you, isn't it?" 

Mickey's shoulders relaxed where they have been tense. "I wasn't really a good dad to him in the beginning." He admitted.

"And you  know that's not your fault, right?" Ian reassured. Mickey simply shrugged. 

"I had a lot of things to think about when I was in jail." Mickey started, diverting his eyesight back onto the field. "Just in there with your thoughts; I don't know, you can't really escape them, you know? 

Ian nodded. 

"Mostly, I just lived in the past. Remembering all the good shit. All the bad shit. Just the shit." Mickey laughed a little. "And people, I guess. Thought I had to be in the same jail as my fucktard of a fatherー luckily no. But people. Three, mostly." 

"Who?" Ian asked. 

"Mandy." Mickey quickly answered. "Thought about her a lot. Wondered if she was okay. If she was alive. And wondered what I could've done to make her stay." 

"It's been a couple years since I last saw her, but... but she looked good." Ian said as a way of comfort. Mickey smiled small. 

"Then there were a lot of thoughts about you." Mickey continued, feeling his heart beat in his chest a little faster. It was strange how comfortable he was to be with Ian in this moment but  _speaking_ about him to his face made his heart race fast and his cheeks redden too. "Thought about you almost every day. Kinda hard to forget when I've got your fuckin' name on my chest." 

Ian felt the bite in those words, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. A part of him just wants to forget Mickey ever had that tattooー but at the same time, he wants to see it again. 

He wanted to see it in all its fucked up beauty. 

And this time, with Mickey's permission. 

The last time... 

Mickey coughed. "And then there was Yevgeny." 

"You thought a lot about him too, did you?" Ian asked. Mickey nodded. 

"He was getting pretty big the last time I saw him. Blond hair, blue eyesー my kid. Mine. He's been through a lot." 

"And you've got me to blame," Ian jested. Mickey nudged him lightly. "He looks a lot like you now." 

"He's kind of a lot like me, actually." Mickey informed. "Kid's almost a carbon copy. But he's got a lot of his mother in him too. And also you." 

"What do you mean?" 

Mickey smiled a little bigger. "He's too gentle to be mine or Svetlana's. He obviously got that from you."

"Haven't looked after him since he was a baby." Ian countered. 

"And those were the years that mattered the most." Mickey said. "And I missed them. And I guess in a way I'm glad I didn't raise him thenー who fuckin' knows how he would've ended up like now." Mickey turned his head to look at Ian in the eye. "I'm glad it was you."

Ian gazed back, his chest tightening with every passing second he looked at Mickey with him looking right back. 

This was new.

This was definitely new. 

In all the years he's known Mickeyー he's been with Mickey, he had never felt this way before. 

He never felt so  _connected_ to him in this way. 

On this level. 

It was a strange and scary feeling, but oh how he loved how it felt. 

Mickey felt the same way too. 

"You, um..." Ian began, finding it hard to speak. "You wanna come back to my place? It's... It's just me there the whole day." 

Mickey blinked onceー twice, before swallowing deeply. "Yeah. Okay, sure." 

* 

Mickey wasn't one to be phased by other people's personal bubble, but this was different. 

This was Ianー _his_ place with  _his_ boyfriend and the life he created with  _him_ for the past seven years. 

It freaked him out a little; this was the kind of life he had envisioned himself to have with Ian. With every photograph he saw splayed out on mantles, wallsー whatever, Mickey tried to imagine  _himself_ in itー and it was so easy for himself to just replace  _that guy_ who made Ian happy for almost a decade. 

Almost a decadeー that's more than he ever was with Ian for. 

Mickey knew he had no right to be mad at thatー he really didn'tー but he still couldn't help himself. 

As he stared at a photograph with Ian and  _that guy_ , holding hands and kissing in a Mardi Gras celebration, the more it ate him up inside. He could hear Ian in the kitchen of the apartment rummaging what he could to make a decent lunch for them but soon it was just background noise. 

He wish he knew where he went wrong with Ian. 

It wasn't until the photograph was placed face down on the mantle, did Mickey finally snap out of his thoughts. Ian stood beside him, having been the one to put the frame down.

"Beer?" Ian asked nonchalantly, holding up a can. 

Mickey looked at it then at Ian before nodding once. "Thanks." 

"No worries." Ian said, turning on his heel to head back into the kitchen. "Not making anything too fancyー just a stir fry with flat rice noodles." 

"Not too fancy, huh?" Mickey asked, following him into the kitchen. "Since when did you learn to make that shit?" 

"You pick a few things up over the years." Ian slyly answered, throwing in a couple vegetables into the wok, "And by picking up a few things, I mean, going on Google and searching up the recipe." He nodded over to his phone on the counter top beside him, open on a  _WikiHow_ page. 

Mickey laughed, looking at the recipe, "Oh, you sure you know how to do this shit? Looks a little  _fancy_." 

"Oooh, shut up, I got this." Ian said confidently. "If all else fails, we have this amazing thing called  _pizza_ which can be delivered here in twenty minutes." 

"Guess I'll get the number ready." Mickey took out his phone from his back pocket. 

"You fucker!" Ian swore, trying to kick Mickey without moving away from the stove. Mickey laughed again. 

In the end, they ended up ordering. 

*

Sitting on the couch after their late lunch, the two of them settled under the blankets, watching Netflix. 

"Is that accurate?" Ian asked with a mouth full of sour worm lollies, pointing at the screen. Mickey shoved him, almost spilling the bowl of Doritos in between them. 

"Fuck off, this is a  _woman's prison_. Fuck if I know if that's what goes down in there." Mickey said. " _And_ this is  _also_ just a TV show. I doubt it's  _that_ easy to escape from a correctional facility." 

"You ever think of breaking outta prison?" And normal Ian would have  _never_ asked him that. But this wasn't  _normal Ian_. This was daily medicated, four-beers-in-one-hour drunk Ian. And drunk Mickey could care less. 

"Fuck no." Mickey said. "Ya get what ya get!" 

"True." Ian agreed lackadaisically. "That wouldn't even be possible for you in the first fuckin' place, remember you got shot in the ass by an old lady when we went to rob her place?" 

"Oh, fuck off about that, it was your fault!" Mickey groaned, lolling his head as he spoke.

"Didn't know she had a gun, okay!" Ian said in his defence. He then leaned in close to speak in Mickey's ear. "Hated how I had to get Ned to fix your ass." 

"It wasn't broken, you dumbass." Mickey retorted.

"You're a dumbass with a  _nice_ ass." The redhead complimented. "Everyone saw your ass that day. Hated that.  _Hate hate hated_ that. That was  _my_ ass! And everyone saw it!" 

"You're fuckin' exaggerating!" Mickey giggled. "It's not even that nice! It's just an ass!" Ian belched before giggling too, and Mickey made grabby hands at his beer. "That's enough for you, mister." 

"Myhousemybeermyrulesfuckyou!" Ian slurred, downing the rest of the beer before slamming it down on the coffee table in front of them. 

"Jesus Christ!" Mickey exclaimed, capturing the fallen Doritos on the blankets before shoving them unceremoniously into his mouth. 

Ian pounded his chest to let the carbonate of the beer pass before he pointed at Mickey, "You know, it's not just an ass." 

"Oh my God." Mickey breathed, taking a swig of his own beer. 

"You have, like, such the nicest butt I have  _ever_ seen." Ian declared. "And I've seen a lot!"

"Yeah, a lot of wrinkly old man ass with saggy balls and shit." Mickey said. 

"Your's is so  _nice_ and  _round_ and it felt so good to slide my dick in between them cheeks." Ian confessed, moving the bowl of chips onto the coffee table. Mickey gulped as Ian then pressed closer against him. "It was so nice to grab onto while I pounded inside youー the way it bounced and jiggled every time I slapped against it." 

"Ian." Mickey sighed, suddenly feeling tight in his pants. 

"Mickey," Ian began, tone more serious than seductive. "I wanna fuck you." 

Mickey almost sobered up completely. "What are we doing, Ian?" He asked. And for a second, it looked like Ian sobered up too. 

"I don't know." Ian said. "I'm really drunk right now." 

"Me too." Mickey assured. 

"But, I mean... we don't have to." Ian started, eyes averting down briefly, but he still stayed close against Mickey. "If you don't wanna, we don't hafta." 

Mickey tried to formulate all the reasons  _not_ to get fucked by Ian. He wanted to,  _he really wanted to_. If the erection in his pants wasn't any indicationー but something held him back. 

It was probably the prospect of wanting something more afterwards. 

That was also new. 

He looked at Ian who looked back at him. 

And then he looked at all the photographs around the room and  _fuck it_ , he leaned in, closing the gap between their lips because yeah, Mickey  _wants something more_ _ー_ he wants this _place_ , he wants to be in those _photos_ , he wants the _life_ he had always wanted to have with _Ian._

Ian broke the kiss to ask, "You sure?" 

"You better fuck me into the mattress, Gallagher." Mickey mumbled back and Ian smiled against his lips, rising from the couch with a hand around Mickey's wrist, guiding him to the bedroom. 

Leaving a trail of clothing from the lounge room to the bedroom, Ian threw Mickey onto the bed. The curtains of the room were drawn; the only source of light seeped in through the cracks, but it was enough for Ian to see Mickey in all his naked glory. 

Mickey, after settling comfortably on the pillows at the head of the bed, languidly began to stroke himself with one handー the other lazily tracing the tattoo on his chest as he watched Ian rummage through the drawers for a packet of condoms and lube. 

Ian found them, tossing the items on the bed next to Mickey before kneeling in between Mickey's legs. "God, you're beautiful." Ian whispered, tenderly bending Mickey's knees so that his feet planted themselves onto the bed.

"Yeah?" Mickey asked, smiling at the compliment. 

"So fuckin' beautiful." Ian repeated, rubbing the palms of his hands up and down Mickey's inner thighs. Mickey shivered at the contact, stroking himself a little faster at the sensation. "Your dick is very nice too." 

"Shut up." Mickey said, using his other hand to flip Ian off. Ian then dived forward, latching his lips on Mickey's tattoo. Mickey sighed sweetly at the soft sucks Ian made on his name. 

"Still can't believe you got this. Still can't believe you've _done_ this." Ian moaned, rubbing his dick against Mickey's thigh before descending down Mickey's body, planting kisses on his way. Mickey arched his back a little, letting Ian lift his legs over his shoulders as Ian buried his nose in the tuft of hair around Mickey's crotch. 

"You gonna sniff my pubes all day or are you gonna suck my dick?" Mickey asked, stroking his fingers through Ian's hair. Ian chuckled, taking the base in his hands before kissing softly up the shaft of Mickey's cock. 

He then tongued the head, tentatively licking the slit and under the ridge. Mickey lolled his head back into the pillow, breathing lightly before holding his breath as Ian dipped down, engulfing his length. 

"Oh, fuck. Oh fuck," Mickey gasped, hips bucking at the sensation. Ian hummed, pressing Mickey's hips into the mattress to hold him still. 

Ian hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace, swallowing down his saliva and Mickey's precome. 

He then popped off Mickey's dick, bringing his lips down to suck his balls. 

The little gasps and moans and litany of _fucks_ drove Ian mad, wanting to do more and more to spur Mickey onー the sudden urge to wreck Mickey so much he can't even think rightー

"Flip over." Ian commanded, sitting back on his haunches. He didn't miss the little whine in the back of Mickey's throat as he pulled his mouth off him.

Mickey inhaled sharply, rolling himself so he lied on his stomach. He then felt Ian's hands grasp at his hips, guiding him to rise onto his knees, exposing his hole. 

Suddenly shy, Mickey buried his face into the pillows, feeling Ian's hands roam and knead the flesh of his ass.

Ian swallowed deeply as his fingers traced over the faded scars on Mickey's left cheek, soon bringing his lips to kiss it. He heard Mickey's muffled moan, urging him to move from kissing to sucking the scars, forming marks of his own. 

He then spread Mickey's cheeks apart, breathing lightly against his entrance. 

"I'm gonna eat you out, okay?" Ian said, licking his lips. 

"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Mickey shouted out of embarrassment, voice muffled by the pillow. Ian chuckled, tracing a finger over Mickey's hole before lapping at it tentatively. 

Mickey tensed at the contact, clenching. Ian then began to lick it more confidently, occasionally dipping the tip of his tongue inside. 

It caused Mickey to moan uncontroablly, his dick leaking profusely. 

Ian reached around to tug Mickey's erection, hand slick with precome as he continued to eat Mickey out. 

This was also something they never did. 

Taking it slow was something they never did. 

Ian felt a little regretful but it made this moment so much better. 

Mickey turned his head to breathe in proplerly, biting his lower lip to stave off his orgasm. There wash absolutely _no fucking way_ he was going to come from just this. 

He refused to. 

But as his knees started to tremble and the heat pool in the pit of his stomach, he knew he wasn't going to last any longer. 

He reached around to paw at Ian's head, "Ian." He gasped out, eyes rolling back in his head as Ian pushed his tongue inside him further. "Ian, I'm gonna come...! Want youー want you inside me." 

After a few more licks, Ian finally pulled off Mickey, chin soaked in saliva. He looked down the expanse of Mickey's back, watching Mickey's expression calm before making eye contact with him and saying, "Yum." 

Mickey laughed breathlessly. "Fuck you." 

"If that's what you're into now..." Ian joked, leaning his chest against Mickey's back. He began to rock his dick in between Mickey's thighs, brushing up against Mickey's balls. "You're staining the bedsheets with how fuckin' wet you are." He whispered against Mickey's ear. 

"Hurry up and get on me, Gallagher." Mickey demanded. Ian huffed, kissing Mickey's shoulder before sitting back up, ripping open a condom and rolling it on. 

"Want me to prep you more?" Ian asked, flipping the cap off the lube. 

"I'm fine, just fuck me already." Mickey said, reaching down to stroke himself.  

Ian smiled, pouring a generous amount of lube onto his hand before slicking up his length. He then parted Mickey's cheek, pressing the head of his cock against Mickey's hole. 

And slowly, he pushed himself in. 

Bottoming out, Ian gave Mickey a breather to adjustー but also, Ian needed a moment to calm himself from coming too early. 

Mickey felt amazing, wrapped so tightly around his lengthー oh how he took him in so good. Mickey was so good, Ian felt a little lightheaded. 

"Can I move?" Ian asked brokenly, massaging his hands into Mickey's hips. 

Mickey nodded furiously. "C'mon, Gallagher."

Ian didn't have to be told twiceー he withdrew his hips back, abruptly snapping back in, causing Mickey to moan deeply at the feeling. 

And it was enough to make Ian lose control. 

The bed began to shakeー the headboard slammed against the wall as Ian pounded into Mickey's ass relentlessly. Mick's breathless moans filled the room as flesh on flesh slapped harshly against each other. 

When Mickey began clenching harder around him, Ian knew he was close. And despite the room masked in darkness, he wanted to seeー he wanted to see Mickey come. 

Reluctantly, Ian pulled out, causing Mickey to whine shamelessly. 

"Gallagher, what theー" Mickey was cut off as Ian flipped the brunet onto his back. 

"I wanna kiss youー hard to do that in that position." Ian cheekily offered, diving in to capture Mickey's lips. 

There was something extremely intimate when it came to the missionary positon; a tinge of vulnerability as well. It was partly the reason they rarely did this positionー but Mickey decided to indulge himself just this once. 

He liked kissing Ian. 

And he liked the thought of rather than them fucking, it was them making love.

Their tongues met as Ian thrust himself back inside; Mickey's legs automatically wrapped around Ian's waist, drawing the redhead in deeper.

Ian continued to pound into Mickey's prostate, building his orgasm up until Mickey cried out, convulsing as he came hard against his and Ian's chest. 

Ian gasped, fucking the brunet through his orgasm until he hit his own, stilling as he filled up the condom. 

"Holy shit..." Ian sighed sweetly, collapsing on top of Mickey, his dick slipping out of him. Mickey began to laugh; a sound that was music to Ian's ears as he brushed Ian's hair back off his face. 

"I love you." Mickey said, looking into Ian's eyes. Ian looked back, staring intently at the man beneath him before he smiled brightly. 

"I love you, too." Ian said, dipping his head down to kiss Mickey deeply. 

Then the giggles erupted. 

"I love you," Mickey repeated in between his laughter and kisses. 

"Oh yeah?" Ian said, brushing his nose against Mickey's. Mickey nodded, and the two began to wrestleー giggling and kissing and holding onto each other like no one else existed. 

Never once noticing that they weren't alone. 

*

Lip was on the computer, struggling to stay awake. No amounts of coffee could keep him upー nodding off whenever he stayed idle for longer than a second. 

It wasn't until he heard a knock on his front door did he find the energy to keep his eyes open. 

At first, he thought he imagined hearing it, sitting at his desk for a moment solely focusing on the knock he may or may not have heard. 

But he heard it again. 

Checking the time on his phone, Lip forced himself up from his chair. He shuffled over towards the front door, unceremoniously yawning as he did. 

He wasn't expecting any visitors, especially around eleven p.m. at nightー but when he did open the door, it wasn't who he expected it to be. 

"Trevor?" Lip said, rubbing his eye. 

"Hey," Trevor said, avoiding eye contact. "Is it okay if I crash here tonight?" 

He looked around the hallway behind Trevor to see that he was alone. "Everything okay?" 

Trevor laughed sadly at that. "Yeah, uh, no. Ian's cheating on me." 

That definitely woke Lip up. 


	13. Chapter 13

Mickey couldn't take it anymore.

Ian was touching him too much.

It became suffocating, and Mickey felt a little disgusted that even after a shower, Ian still continued to mess him up to the point where there was just nothing left.

Mickey let out a tired moan, hips shaking as he came once again at the hands of Ian. Nothing came out thoughー he came _dry_.

"Ian, you gotta fuckin' stop." Mickey murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open.

He heard Ian chuckle. "Nope."

"You're insane."

"Only medically."

"I should get goin' now. What time is it?" Mickey asked, but made no effort to look for a clock. Ian did as a courtesy.

"Almost one." Ian said, lowkey surprised how time had flown so fast. "It's late, stay the night."

"Your boyfriend ain't gonna come?" Mickey rubbed his eyes, forcibly pulling himself to lean his back against the headboard.

"He hasn't text me." Ian said, checking his phone for good measure. "Probably staying over at the house."

"House?"

"Yeah," Ian nodded. "For troubled youths." Mickey just gave Ian a confused look. "At risk teens?" Ian tried. No dice. "Kids with mental disorders who could self-harm or harm others? Or kids from abusive households?" Now it clicked.

"Oh." Mickey said.

"Yeah." Ian said.

"Your man some kind of good Samaritan or some shit?" Mickey asked, leaning over towards the bedside table to fetch the packet of cigarettes and a lighter. He lit it up, inhaling deeply before handing it over to Ian.

"Yeah, he's really passionate about it. It's nice." Ian said, taking a drag as well as also sitting up against the headboard.

Mickey sighed, running his tongue over his bottom teeth as he loathed himself for what he was about to ask. "Ian... I know you don't know, but I need to knowー what are we? The fuck we doing?"

Ian tried his best to not say _I don't know_. It was all he _did_ knowー that he didn't know what they were doing but also that it wasn't a particularly good situation to be in. "I love you."

"Okay." Mickey said.

"But I also love him." Ian continued.

"Okay." Mickey repeated.

"And all I can really say is that I know this isn't fair on youー both of you guys. And that I'm being selfish and indecisive and that I'm a dick for doing this." He said. "But I can't help it." 

Mickey sighed, rubbing his eye before peeling the blanket off him. He then scooted himself to the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the floor. "Not the kind of guy to make you choose." 

"And that's what I love." Ian said, moving to lean his chin on Mickey's shoulder. "And I think if you did make me choose, you'd know who I'd pick." 

Mickey huffed in amusement. "If you knew, then why don't you?" 

"Mick, you gotta understandー I can't leave him." 

"Why not?" 

"It's complicated." 

"Always is." 

Ian sighed. "I've been with him for too long. And as much as it sounds so easy to just choose you over him, I'm not ready to throw away what me and him have." 

"Aren't you already doin' that?" Mickey asked, and he hated how  _possessive_ he sounded. He hated that Ian made him like this. 

"Seven Christamases. Seven birthdays. Seven Thanksgivings. Seven anniversaries." Ian began listing and Mickey didn't like where it was leading. "I can't act like all those years mean nothing just because you're here now. I can't just throw all that away. For what? A maybe?" 

"Who's says we're a  _maybe?_ " Mickey asked, moving back just a bit to look at Ian. 

"Mickey, we fucked for years and only been together for one.  _Barely_." Ian said. "I've been with him longer than I've been with you." 

"Then I think it's pretty fuckin' clear on what you should do then." Mickey spat out, standing. 

Ian quickly grabbed Mickey's wrist. "I don't want you to wait for me to decide. But I'm not about to let you walk away, not again. Not this time around." He pleaded. "It's not fair. And I get that. But Mickey,  _please_. I love you." 

"Like that makes everything okay all of a sudden?" Mickey retorted, yanking his hand away from Ian. 

"You love me?" Ian asked. "Cause I love you. No one will ever love you the way I do." 

Mickey sighed, sitting back down on the bed. "Can't say the same for me." After all, Ian's got  _that guy_ who loves him as much as Mickey does. 

"Yeah, I can." Ian argued, pressing his forehead against Mickey's. "But if you really want out, if you really can't do this... I can't stop you. I don't wanna lose you. But I also don't want you to be in a position you don't wanna be in. And I'm not gonna lie, but if you do walk away, I will fight. I'll fight until it's really the end. Until it's _really over._ "

"Then I'll wait." Mickey decided, squeezing the back of Ian's neck tenderly. "Cause you're right. I do love you. And if you don't choose me in the end, then at least I'll know we tried. Least I got whatever we had." 

And then they kissed softly, lips locking all in love. 

After parting, Ian said, "Let's go to sleep, yeah? I'll wake you in a couple hours."

Mickey nodded eagerly, already closing his eyes as he moved back under the sheets. Ian soon settled beside him, brushing Mickey's hair back soothingly. Mickey fell asleep almost instantly with Ian's lips on his forehead. 

Mickey had never felt so content to have fallen asleep with Ian right next to him. 

It felt like the start of a good day. 

*

No matter how long Lip has known Trevor for, it was still a little weird for him to be around the guy without Ian here.

Sure, Lip and Trevor have hung out a few times over the past few years, but it was within other companyー never alone. He didn't really know what to talk to the guy about.

And waking up to him using his kitchen and cooking breakfastー a meal Lip almost always skippedー made him realise how screwed up this whole situation is.

"Sorry," Trevor said once he noticed Lip by the kitchen archway, "Hope you don't mind me using your shit."

"Yeah, no worries." Lip said, arms crossing over his chest. "Any coffee?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." Lip scratched the back of his head, awkwardly shuffling over to the pot of coffee Trevor had brewed.

Trevor removed the last french toast off the pan before turning off the stove. He turned to Lip, "Hey, uh, thanks for letting me crash last night. Kind of went on a bender and your place was close by so..."

"Hey, don't sweat it." Lip said, taking a sip of his coffee. He then felt incredibly torn. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I don't really know what there is to say." Trevor sighed, shrugging pathetically. "And I don't really know if you're someone I could talk to about this."

Lip nodded his head, understanding where he was coming from. And the look on Trevor's face made Lip feel extremely guilty. "I know it may seem like I'd be biased, but... I guess all I can say is I'm sorry."

Trevor laughed. "Sorry for what? That I caught your brother cheating on me or that I was cheated on?"

Lip didn't want to answer that, despite feeling guilty at the look of utter defeat that Trevor wore on his face. Fortunately, Trevor continued, "And you know, the funny thing about this is that I don't even know what's worseー that he's cheated on me or that I was _so damn stupid_ to believe I was the only one this whole time. That he made me believe I was the only one. Fuck, who knows? He could've been doing this for years!"

"Are you gonna break up with him?" Lip asked.

Trevor sighed, pushing back the brown curly locks of his hair. "If we were together for a couple months, then yeah, I would."

"But...?"

Trevor shrugged, looking at Lip in earnest. "I need to know."

Lip felt uneasy. "Know what?"

"Do you know?" Trevor asked. "Do you know who that guy was? Being fucked in _my_  bed in _my_  place by _my_ boyfriend?"

"Does it matter who it was?" Lip diverted. "Will knowing who it was change what happened?"

For some reason, that answer made Trevor relax his tense shoulders. "I guess not." Trevor said. "I don't know, man. Maybe I'm just tired. I don't have it in me to be mad."

And Lip felt like giving a little comfort as he said, "You know, you do have every right to be mad." Trevor looked at Lip like he didn't expect him to say that. Lip shrugged, "I mean, yeah, he's my little brother, but just because he is, it doesn't mean I always agree with him."

"In the past," Trevor began. "Did he... Was he..." He struggled to find another word for disloyal, but that struggle alone was easily translated for Lip to understand.

"Ian... When he was a teenager, and I guess it's just a Gallagher thing, but relationships were... Let's just say we were shit at it." Lip explained. "Not saying we're perfect at it nowー definitely better than beforeー but we just _sucked_. There's really no other way to describe it. Relationships weren't really our forte. Perks of growing up with Frank and Monica as our parents, I guess."

"Even after all this time, I still don't know a lot about Ian as I thought I did." Trevor said.

"If it means anything, you and Ianー you guys have been together the longest in our family. In fact, you guys rival Debs and Neil." Lip consoled, earning a small smile from Trevor.

"Was there anyone else he's been with for as long as me and him?" Trevor asked.

When it came to that point in their relationship, both Ian and Trevor had been honest. Trevor told Ian his dirty laundry and sexual escapadesー Ian was honest with his.

Trevor knew about Kash. He knew about Ned. He knew about Ian's phase in the club and the things he did for fifty bucks. He even knew about his short lived relationship with a fireman that inspired him to become an EMT.

And Trevor believed Ian.

But now, with the things he saw, Trevor questioned it; he questioned if what Ian told him was true or if he left anyone out.

He believed they grew into a relationship where they were comfortable with laying all the cards on the table for both of them to see.

Clearly, not all the cards were laid.

Lip didn't really feel like lying. A part of it was because he was tired, waking up before he was fully rested, but as much as he could just blame the lack of sleep, it was also because yes, Trevor has become a part of the Gallagher clan.

He earned his spot.

But of course, Ian came first.

"No, not seven years long." Lip settled on saying, deciding to pick out specific points in Trevor's question. "You've changed him, Trevor. You're good for him."

"Clearly not good enough if he's..." Trevor sighed, shaking his head. "I know I should be angry, and mad and pissed and just fuckingー I don't know! Wanna kill him for doing this to me? But I just don't  _feel_ that way." 

"Why?" 

Trevor shrugged helplessly. "It's like... I don't want to break up with him. Even if this fuckin' sucks. Even if it looks like he doesn't wanna be with me. I just... don't wanna break up with him just yet." 

Before Lip could reply, there was a knock on the front door. Lip and Trevor exchanged looks before Lip pushed himself off the counter top he'd been leaning against and headed towards the door, answering it. "Carl?" 

"Hey." The younger Gallagher brother said, rubbing an eye. "You busy? Oh, hey Trevor." Carl said, letting himself into the apartment. Lip and Trevor shared another look, this time one of confusion as Carl made himself at home. 

"What... what are you doing here?" Lip asked, closing the front door as he watched Carl head into the kitchen. The kid helped himself to some of Trevor's cooking. 

"I tried calling Ian, but he didn't answer his phone. Went to your place, didn't answer the door." Carl began to explain, collecting whatever he wanted from the kitchen. "So I came here." 

Lip joined Carl at the dining table with Trevor soon following behind. "Yeah, but what are you  _doing_ here?" 

Carl took a bite of his breakfast before saying, "Usually, I'd go to Ian. Since he's, I don't know what the fuck he's doin', I came here. Needed to talk." 

"About what?" Trevor asked. 

Carl sighed, forking his toast. "Me and Tyrell broke up." 

Lip and Trevor tried not to look surprised at what Carl just said. And that  _Carl_ actually wanted to talk about this kind of stuff. 

"I'm sorry, man." Lip was the first to speak. 

"Thanks." Carl said. 

Then Lip went on to his first question about this situation. "You, uh, you always go to Ian about your... relationship stuff?" 

"Just the gay ones." Carl shrugged. "Since, you know, he's gay. Girls are more easier to handle. Guys are a whole different territory." 

"Oh." Lip said. "You know, you don't always have to go to him. I'm here. Fiona, Debbie. We're here too." 

"Yeah, but Ian's all into that romantic gay shit. I don't know." Carl then turned to look at Trevor. "And he's been with you for a long time, so I figured... he's gotta be doing something right for you guys to be together for a long time. And fuck all if I'm going to Debbie for this shit." 

"Yeah, I'm not too sure about that anymore." Trevor sighed, tapping his fingers against the table. 

"What's that mean?" Carl asked. 

Trevor looked at Lip and Lip gave him a look that said  _it's your news to tell_. "I caught Ian cheating on me with some guy last night." 

"Mickey?" Carl said and Lip felt himself choke on where he'd been drinking his coffee. 

"Who?" Trevor immediately asked, leaning in close to Carl. "You know who it was?" 

"Carl." Lip warned. 

"I mean, he's the only guy I can think of that would make Ian forget about you." Carl said nonchalantly. 

" _Carl._ " Lip spoke louder. 

"Who's Mickey?" Trevor asked, looking between the two Gallaghers. "Why have I heard of that name before..." 

"Mickey's Ian's ex-boyfriend who just got outta jail like, over a month ago." Carl explained, resuming back to his breakfast. 

And Trevor let those words sink inー mind reeling back to any other instances Ian may have mentioned of  _that guy_ over the years. 

There were none. 

"Ian's... never told me about a Mickey before." Trevor recalled sadly. "He's told me about the convenience store guy, your sister's ex-boyfriend's dad, the old fucks at the clubー but never Mickey." 

"Really?" Carl asked suspiciously. "Mickey's like... Ian's soulmate or whatever gay shit they were." 

"Carl, can you just shut up?" Lip whined in frustration. Carl just looked at his brother in confusion. 

"You knew, huh?" Trevor said at Lip. "This  _Mickey_ ー you knew?" 

Lip sighed. "Like I said, it doesn't change what happened." 

"Ian cheated on me with a fuckin'  _criminal?_ " Now Trevor was mad. 

"Look, even if I try to explain to you what this situation is, you'd never get it." Lip said defensively. "Ian and Mickey... you just won't get it." 

"What in the seven years I've been with your fucking brother will not make me understand this?" Trevor countered, standing. 

"You make have been with Ian longer butー" Lip looked around, trying his best to put this into nicer words, "But you haven't _been_ with Ian."

"The fuck does that even mean!" Trevor shouted. "The way I see it, Ian's gone back to being Southside trash falling back with a  _bad thing_."

"They've been through a lot more shit than you and Ian have!" Lip shouted back, now also standing. "The only fuckin' problems you and Ian had were his ignorance to the LGBT community! To you being transgender! And Ian's bipolar! That's it! That's fucking it! And that's _nothing_ in comparison to what Ian and Mickey have been through!" 

"Then tell me what it was that makes Mickey so much fuckin' better than me!" Trevor gestured wildly, face heating up. 

"Mickey went to jail for Ian, something I doubt you'd ever do for him!" Lip answered and those little words somehow eased the tension in the room. 

Lip sat back down, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry." He apologised. "Fuckin' Milkovichs." He laughed, running his hand through his hair. 

"Milkovichs?" Trevor repeated, also sitting down. He looked at Carl who just gave him an expression that said he knew what Lip was talking about. 

"They used to live down the street from us." Carl said. 

"Me and Ian... we got involved with two of the Milkovichs many years ago." Lip continued. "They made what we had growing up look like paradise." He reminisced. "Ian and I, we got in too deep and... Let's just say if you got a Milkovich to fall in love with you, the lengths they would go for you... It's unbelievable." 

"What did they do?" Trevor asked, voice more calm. 

Lip smiled sadly. "Mandyー Mandy Milkovich, she uh, for me, she got me into college. And she also got me out of a bad relationship." 

"That's... that's good, right?" Trevor questioned. "And normal." 

"She applied for me to several colleges without my permission. She decided my future at the time and I hated her for that." Lip said. "But I'm grateful now, I mean," He gestured at his nice apartment. 

"But the bad relationship was..." 

"Mandy hit Lip's ex-girlfriend with a car, left her like she's mentally five years old again." Carl answered for Lip. 

Trevor gulped. "Holy shit." 

"It was wrong of her to do that," Lip sighed. "She ruined my ex's life. Could've almost killed her. But it was the only thing she could've thought of. It's the only way she knew how to  _do_ that. And I guess she didn't care what happened to her, as long as I wasn't in a toxic relationship." Lip explained and it seemed like Carl was the only one in the room who understood where he was coming from. 

"Why are you acting like this is  _normal_ _?_ " Trevor asked, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. 

"Like you said, we're Southside trash. That kind of shit  _is_ our normal." He explained. "And we all got out, but it's our roots, you know?" 

Trevor nodded once. "And... And Mickey...? What... what did he do? For Ian, I mean." 

"A lot." Lip said, drinking his coffee. "I don't even know where to begin."

And before Lip could go any further, Carl interrupted. "Well, before you do, can we get back on topic?" He asked. 

Trevor and Lip looked at the youngest male in the room in confusion. 

Carl rolled his eyes, "I came here for a reason? Me and Ty?" 

"Oh." Both Trevor and Lip said. 

"Sorry." Lip apologised. "What can we do, kid?" 

"I mean, I don't mean to be rude and all, but like, I gotta jet soon and I just needed to talk or else I might fuck up at work." Carl said. 

"Yeah. Yeah, okay Carl." Trevor said, nodding his head, agreeing to the shift in the conversation. "You... So Ty broke up with you or...?" 

Carl nodded. "Yeah. It's the whole  _I love you_ shit." And he proceeded to tell Lip and Trevor his conversation he had with Ian a week or so back about how he confessed to Tyrell, how Ian said it was probably too fast to be saying it and what it means to have said it. 

Afterwards, Lip was the first to speak. "So... he hurt you." 

"Join the club." Trevor joked, earning a small smile from Carl. 

"You... you wanna get back with him, is that what you're trying to say?" Lip continued. 

This time, Carl shook his head. "Nah." 

"Then what?" 

"I don't wanna be with someone who doesn't wanna be with me, you get me?" Carl said nonchalantly. "You can't force someone to be with you if they don't feel the same way anymore." 

That hit Trevor. 

Hard. 

"So then, what do you need from us?" Lip asked. 

"Just wanted to know what I could do for next time." Carl said. "So it doesn't hurt as much as it does now." 

Lip patted Carl on the back. 

Carl might just have to prepare himself for what Lip and Trevor were about to unload on him about  _love_. 

And what love does to a person.

* 

Nothing could have prepared Mickey for the scene before him the minute he stepped through the threshold of home. 

"What the fuckー what the fuck is this?" Mickey said, dropping his keys on the couch as he took in the dishevelment of the apartment. It was a complete  _mess_ , an absolute opposite of Ian's apartmentー the Gallagher's homeー even the Milkovich shithole didn't compare. Time slowed down as his mind tried to register the situation. 

And then the noise settled in his ears. 

The TV was blaring. 

Svetlana was throwing things around. 

Yevgeny was crying.  _Loudly_. 

And finally, Mickey returned back into his body. 

He crossed the apartment where Svetlana was throwing clothes out from the wardrobe and grabbed her arm. "Svetlana, what the fuck are you doing!" 

"Otpustit'!" She shouted, yanking her arm back. 

Mickey huffed, watching her momentarily as Yevgeny's cries grew louder. He then tried again, this time grabbing both of her shoulders firmly. "Stop! Talk to me!" He demanded. 

Svetlana was on the verge of crying. 

She  _never_ cried. 

But somehow, she also looked  _angry_. "No good." She simply offered. 

"W-what's no good? Why you making all this mess for!" He let go of her before pointing at Yevgeny. "Why's he crying?" 

"Yevgeniy, idti upakovat' odezhdu." Svetlana commanded, crossing over towards her bed to pull out the suitcases from underneath. Yevgeny started bawling uncontrollably. 

Mickey felt his chest tightened as he went over to Yevgeny and picked the kid up. He held his son close to his body as Yevgeny buried his snot and tear stained face in the nook of Mickey's neck. 

"Shh... Shhh... Stop crying, lil man. It's okay." Mickey whispered, rubbing Yevgeny's back to soothe him. He then eyed Svetlana who began packing her clothes into the luggage. 

Everything soon clicked. 

"Svetlana,  _when_." He demanded. She ignored him, going over towards Yevgeny's drawer and proceeded to take out and pack his clothes. " _When!_ " He repeated but it was no use. He tried a different approach. "What happened?" He said a little more softly. 

"You didn't come back." She said, calming at Mickey's tone. "I had to go to Michaelー other sugar daddyー but no one here to look after Yev. So I take him." 

And then Svetlana, who sat on the floor surrounded by clothes began telling the story as Mickey moved to sit on the bed, hushing Yevgeny to sleep.

Once she was done, Mickey took a minute to take everything in. He then said, "Jesus Christ, Svet." He sighed out, rubbing his temple. "We'll find someone, okay? Don't start getting all fuckin' dramatic because he called INS on you. Stop packing your shit!" 

"I pack shit, I leave soon with Yevgeny." Svetlana said, patting down the dishevelled clothes into the suitcase. 

"The fuck you are, just stop for a fuckin' minute, will ya!" Mickey demanded. His loud voice caused Yev to rouse up from his sleep and the kid started sniffling. A little more softly, he said, "L-Look, we'll figure it out, we'll think of something." 

"No time." She stubbornly said, continuing to pack. 

"We'll make time!" He growled. "We'll  _make time_." He repeated in a whisper. "We'll find another rich viagroid to marry you, just relax." 

"Tomorrow." Svetlana sighed, looking up at Mickey. "It expires tomorrow." 

Mickey felt heat rise in his chest. Eyebrows narrowed and teeth almost bared, he seethed out, "And you fuckin' tell me this  _now?_ " 

"It's none of your business." She pointed, rising up to her feet. In turn, Mickey stood up, still carrying Yevgeny. 

"The fuck it is!" Mickey shouted. 

"It's not, this is not your problem, it's mine," She informed, grabbing Yevgeny out of Mickey's arms and setting the kid up on his feet. "Yevgeny, start packing." She demanded and the waterworks came back, Yevgeny crying once again. 

Mickey felt pain in his heart. It made him even more angry. "No, no fucking packing, you stop  _now_." He said, holding onto Svetlana as the Russian resumed packing. In a fit of rage, he pushed past her, grabbing her clothes and shoving them back into the closet. 

"Vy grebanyy pedik!" She shouted. "You cannot stop me! I am  _not_ going back to Russia!"

"And you're  _not!_ " He shouted back. 

"What can you do, you cannot help!" She asked incredulously, trying to talk louder than Yevgeny's wails. "INS will deport me, take Yevgeny away because he is citizen and we will never see each other again!" 

And suddenly, it was hard for Mickey to breathe. 

The whole room spunー it was hard for him to focusー everything became a  _blur_. And he felt sick in the pit of his stomach.

The midday news report that blared from the screen; Svetlana mixing her English and Russian in a litany of stressー Yevgeny's voice rubbing rawー 

The clothes sprawled across the floor, half eaten lunch in on the dinner table, Yevgeny's toys all over the apartmentー

And the sun. The beautiful sun that beamed through the window. 

It was  _such a beautiful day_. 

It started beautiful. 

Waking up next to Ian was beautiful. 

Coming home to  _this_ however... 

It was the complete opposite. 

How did it come to this? How did it get so bad so fast? 

What would've happened if he never came home when he did? Right when Svetlana was ready to leave with his son? 

 _His son_. His son that he loves so much. 

And her. 

How did Mickey not notice she was struggling? 

She was wrong. Svetlana was  _wrong_. 

It  _was_ his business. 

He was going to make it his  _business_. 

Mickey came back to his senses and inhaled deeply. "You marry me then." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Companion piece: [BECAUSE IT'S US](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8593870).


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mentions of rape.

Trevor wasn't the type to get nervous. He was notorious for speaking his mind, standing for what was right and what he believed in. 

And with his circumstances, he tried his best to believe in the best of everyone. 

Even with guys he loved who cheated on him. 

He stood in front of his apartment door, heart pounding fast and hard in his chest. It felt weird to be scared to come homeー it was  _his home_. But the thought of someone other than Ian being beyond those doors scared him. 

What Lip had told him after he and Lip helped Carl with his problems, it made Trevor wonder if maybe he was looking at the whole situation wrong. 

A part of him just wanted to pretend he didn't see what he saw. He hated feeling sympathetic towards this Mickey guy. What Lip told him about the guy; he couldn't help but feel pity. 

Mickey's been through a lot. 

But also, so did Trevor. And the thought of putting himself first instead of some guy he hasn't even met was what gave Trevor the courage to step in through the threshold. 

Ian was in the kitchen. He looked like he was alone. 

And the way Ian's face lit up when he saw Trevorー no one would've guessed he was just with another guy not only a couple hours earlier. 

"You're back!" Ian said, smiling brightly. He walked across the apartment, wrapping his arms around Trevor and kissing him on the lips. 

Oh how easy it would be for everyone if Trevor just  _pretended_. 

Just like how Ian's pretending nothing happened right now.

But that wasn't the kind of guy Trevor was. 

Gently, he pushed Ian off him with soft fingers, looking down to the side as he said, "I know." 

The way Trevor said those two little words made Ian automatically assume it wasn't a reply to what he greeted Trevor with. 

Ian held onto the hope that Trevor didn't mean what he thinks those words meant. 

He was too naive to believe that. 

Trevor inhaled deeply, now looking at Ian. "About Mickey." 

"Trevor." Ian breathed out helplessly. But it didn't look like he was going to fight for an excuse. In a way, Trevor was glad. 

He probably would've fought with Ian. 

No, most likely, he would. 

But with Ian just accepting what's been done and what's been known, somehow, Trevor hoped they would come to a good conclusion out of a bad situation. 

He really didn't want to break up with Ian just yet. 

This was just another obstacle. 

"We built a life together, Ian." Trevor began. "You and me, we made this." He said, gesturing at the walls, pointing out all the photographs, all the memoriesー every little part that made Ian and Trevor  _Ian and Trevor_. "Not just me. Not just you.  _Us_. Together." 

Ian stayed quiet as Trevor continued, "And I wanna believe that I wasn't just some kind of filler. That I was just someone to fill the void until... until  _he_ came back. And the me of seven years ago would've  _definitely_ not stand for this. Stand for being  _cheated on_. But the me right now... Loves you. _Is_ in love with you. And I'm not ready to give up." 

Ian took Trevor's hand in his, holding it tightly. "You're not a filler. You're not some replacement." He assured sadly, hating the fact that Trevor thought that's all he was to Ian.

Did he fill the void? Maybe. But that didn't make him any less important.

"Why'd you do it?" Trevor asked. "Not good enough for you?"

Ian didn't know how to respond to that. At least, not in a way that didn't sound bad. Instead, Ian settled for saying, "I'm torn." 

"What's there to be torn about?" 

"You're right." Ian said. "We built a life together. We spent years together." 

"Was there anyone else?" Trevor asked. 

"No." Ian said. Trevor believed him, trusting his gut this time. 

"What makes him so special then?" 

Ian bit his lower lip. "I don't know." 

"You do." Trevor declared, rubbing his thumb over the back of Ian's hand. "You just don't wanna tell me. Can't hurt anymore than seeing you fuck him in our bed." 

Ian's face fell, eyes immediately starting to water. "Trevorー I'm _so_ sorry." 

"I just wanna know, Ian." Trevor urged softly, deciding it was too early to forgive Ian for that. "I just wanna know what makes him better than me." 

And for Ian, it wasn't a case of who was betterー it stemmed into something more deeper and more complicated. 

Both Trevor and Mickey meant a lot to Ian in different ways. And in its own way, it's what kept them incomparable. 

"I can't compare you both." Ian managed, closing his eyes. "He's not better than you anymore than you're better than him." 

"We've been together longer, more than you and him." Trevor pointed out. 

"Yeah, we have." Ian assured. 

"And it was because you wanted to be with me right? Not because he was in jail?" 

Ian was hurt that Trevor thought that. "Of course not." He said sincerely. "Trevor, you gotta know that I... I did break up with him. Before he even went to jail. I chose to do that. And I... I did it again when he was in jail. I just... I just couldn't wait for him. He was sentenced _fifteen_ fuckin' years." 

"But he got out early." Trevor said. 

"Yeah, he did." Ian sighed. 

"So what changed? What changed your mind now?" Trevor asked. "What's different now that you wanted to be with him again even after breaking up with him?" 

Ian shrugged. He didn't want to lie anymore than he already has. "It was easier to just pretend he didn't matter to me when what happened eight years ago happened. It was easier for me to just leave him in there and move on with my life. And I did. I... Forgot about him.

But then he just... He comes back. He's just _there_. And he didn't even wanna see me. And I _knew_ that but I justー I couldn't help myself. I had to know how he was. How he was doing. If he forgives me. If he loves me."

Trevor stayed quiet this time as Ian continued. "I don't know what I expected to happen when I saw him again. I knew what I was doing was wrong for both us and for him. But I justー I guess I wanted to know if he was fine without me. If he could move on. If he _was_ moving on." 

"Was he?" Trevor asked. Ian flinched. 

"Yeah." The redhead answered. "But the thought of him moving on without me hurts. And I hated it. I hate how possessive and selfish I sound too. Absolutely hate it." He confessed. "I took him for granted. I didn't appreciate all the things he did for me because I was too busy fucking around when all he did was try to take care of me. Never paid attention to what he did was in my best interest and I just ended up despising him." 

Ian then took both of Trevor's hands in his and looked at his boyfriend sincerely. "I never wanted to hurt you. I never intended for this to happen. I justー I guess I just wanted to know _what if_. I wanted to know what could've been if I had known what he's done for me; if I fuckin' _noticed_." 

"You're saying you missed your chance for a happy ending with him?" Trevor asked. 

"Because I was too stupid. Too young. Too blind." Ian answered. He then sighed. "But you're right. You and me... We've been together longer. Done more than me and him ever did. Fuck, we've never even been out on a date." 

That caused Trevor to drop his hands from Ian's grasp. "What?" 

"What?" Ian asked. 

"You've... You've never been on a date with him? Ever?" Trevor elaborated. Ian looked at him in confusion before shaking his head. 

"No, we never got the chance. I... I was hauled off by the MP's before we could. Then everything went to shit." Ian said. 

Trevor bit his lower lip. 

He hated what he was about to say, he even _feared_ he might regret this. 

But this was his chance to finally decide not just for him but also for that _other guy._

It was make or break. 

"Okay then." Trevor breathed out. "Go on one." 

"What?" 

"A date." Trevor clarified. "With him, with Mickey." 

"What?" Ian repeated. 

"I'm... I'm giving you a pass. I... I'm giving you an okay to go on a date with him." 

Ian was at a loss for words. "I don't understand." 

"Figure it out." Trevor said. "I want you to figure it out, what you wanna do, what do you wantー now that everything is out in the open, I'm giving you a chance to decide once and for all." 

Ian was struggling to wrap his head around this concept, "You want me to go on a date with Mickey?" 

Trevor sighed, nodding his head. "Yes. Ian Clayton Gallagher, go on a date with him." 

"What's... what's the catch?" Ian asked. 

"It's my ultimatum. You go on a date. You figure it all out." Trevor said before swallowing deeply. "But Ian, if you don't come home afterwards, if you don't come home to  _me_ , then that's it." 

Ian's heart began to pound harshly in his chest as the expression Trevor wore on his face. "That's it?" 

"That's it." Trevor confirmed. "If you don't come home to me then I'll know you chose him. That you wanna be with  _him._ " Trevor then placed his hand on Ian's cheek, looking at the redhead sincerely. "I don't wanna lose you. I don't wanna lose what we have." He whispered. "But I don't wanna be in a relationship with someone who doesn't wanna be with me. And you can't be with both of us, you can't choose _both of us_. Because if you don't walk away from him, I'm walking away from you. I don't deserve this, Ian. I don't think he does too." 

Why did Ian believe so much that this would all work out? 

Why wasn't Trevor screaming at him? 

Why wasn't he _mad?_

Ian never dealt well with ultimatumsー he was usually the one to  _give them_. 

But this was Trevor. This was the guy he's been with for  _seven whole years_. 

This was the man who changed his close minded views, who educated him in ways he never thought he had to be educated. 

And he opened him up to compromise. 

It was an ultimatum, yes. 

But it was also a compromise. 

For Trevor and for Mickey, Ian was willing. 

It wasn't fair. 

It was time to choose. 

"Okay." Ian said. 

"Okay." Trevor repeated. 

Ian then stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Trevor and pulling his boyfriend in to a tight hug. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, kissing the top of Trevor's head. "I'm so  _so_ sorry." 

Trevor just breathed in Ian's scentー something that smelt so foreign to him. 

Like another man. 

* 

It was a Wednesday, during Mickey's lunch break when they came. 

The INS. 

The investigator, a man who looked to be in his mid forties, drove up into the garage with an attitude of distressー looking like he hated his life and that this was where his career ended; exposing faux marriages who avoided governmental deportation. 

It was either they played the same song or he didn't manage to bust many cases, but Mickey knew the guy wouldn't be much pain in the ass. 

The second Mickey took the guy up into his apartment where Svetlana was cooking (she's been doing that a lot ever since they got hitched just for this very moment when the INS showed up unannounced), he noticed his wife scowl. 

"You." She muttered under her breath before changing her expression to one big  _fake_ smile. 

"Well, well, well," The INS investigator bellowed. "If it isn't Mrs.  _Fisher_ , or should I now say, Mrs.  _Milkovich_. What a pleasant surprise!" He sarcastically greeted. 

"Holdー you two know each other?" Mickey asked, taking the beer Svetlana offered him. She then guided Mickey to sit on the couch with her as the INS investigator pulled up a chair from the dining table. 

"Very well, you might say." The investigator said. Svetlana snarled, coiling her arm around Mickey's as the interview commenced. 

It was obvious that they passed without a hitch. 

"I don't know what kind of game you two are playing atー or why  _she_ is worth keeping here, but I can't find any faults in this elaborate scheme of yours." The investigator stood, declaring them  _competent._

"I am a real keeper." Svetlana mocked also standing with Mickey. 

"Sure you are." The investigator grumbled, seeing himself out of the apartment. Once the door closed, Svetlana finally removed her arm from where it was linked with Mickey's. 

"Jesus  _Christ_." Mickey sighed as he watched Svetlana return to her cooking. 

"What a pain." She commented. 

"Did you have to go off and say all that unnecessary shit?" Mickey asked, following Svetlana into the kitchen. 

Svetlana hummed. "What unnecessary shit?" 

"You're with child?" Mickey said incredulously. "What kind of bullshit you sproutin' huh? Who's the father?" 

"Relax, is fake." She assured, stirring the pot. 

"Yeah, I  _know_ it's fake, the fuck you say it though? What if that guy comes back and sees you still sportin' a flat stomach?" Mickey questioned, pinching one of the chicken strips Svetlana had already grilled. 

"I say I miscarriage, it happens all the time." She said nonchalantly. Mickey made a face. 

"So you don't want another kid?" And he wasn't sure why he asked it as Svetlana shrugged her shoulders. 

"Yevgeny is baby enough." She said. 

Mickey rolled his eyes. "Yeah, but in three years time, he'll be a teenager then he'll start doing teenager shit and then you'll get all crazy lady hormonal all up in here about how your  _baby_ is growing up and how you wished he was a newborn." 

Svetlana turned around and raised a brow. "You want another baby?" 

"No." Mickey answered immediately. "I don't know. Do you?" 

Svetlana hummed. "I don't know. Maybe. But you do not want baby with me, yes?" She said, alluding to  _who_ Mickey wants the baby  _with_. 

Mickey shrugged. He has had dreams of seeing a little _Ian_ running around before in the past.

She turned back to her cooking. "Maybe yes, maybe no. But if I want, I want same for Yevgeny."

"What do you mean _same?_ " Mickey questioned. 

"Same father." She answered.

"No fuckin' way." Mickey rejected, turning on his heel. Svetlana laughed heartily.

"If I want, I just fuck another baby out of you." She taunted jokingly.

"You're fucking nuts." Mickey called out, walking towards the front door. "I'm going back to work, crazy."

When Mickey returned back down, James came up to him holding Mickey's phone. "Your boyfriend's been calling you." He informed cheekily, handing Mickey the phone.

"What?" Mickey said, taking the phone and looking at the caller ID.

 _Ian_. 

"Aww, boss, you have a boyfriend already?" Elliot called out from his seat by the employee lunch table.

" _And_ a wife." James commented, sitting back in his chair. "So lucky." 

"I'm your boss." Charlie said, not bothering to look up from his paper at the boys. Mickey hit the _return call_ button and brought the phone up to his ears. As he waited for the call to go through, Charlie asked, "Everything okay?" 

"It's alright." Mickey said, referring to the interview. 

"How dare the INS get in the way of true love." Elliot said. James nudged him hard. 

"It's not to his  _wife_ you numbnuts." James muttered. 

"Yeah, I meant his  _son,_ you dickwad." Elliot mumbled, rubbing his ribs. 

The call went through and Mickey made his way outside the garage, "Hey. Sorry I missed your call." 

" _Hey, Mick_." Ian said. " _You busy?_ "

"I'm on my lunch break." Mickey said. "What's up?" 

Ian chuckled. " _Uh, you busy this Saturday?_ " He clarified. 

Mickey looked over at the others by the lunch table before shrugging. "From five on, yeah. Missed out on work last weekend." 

" _Oh. Oh okay. Yeah._ " Ian said. 

"What... did you have in mind?" Mickey asked, letting Ian know he was up for it as long as it was after work. 

" _You wanna go on a date?_ " Ian asked. " _Hit up Boystown like old times? Or... you know, go to Sizzler's?_ " 

Mickey felt his cheeks heat up. "Yeah. Sounds good." 

" _Okay. It's a date._ " Ian said, a little more cheerfully. 

"Guess it is." Mickey said. "Meet you around seven?" 

" _Alright, I'll pick you up at seven-thirty_." Ian cheekily said. " _See ya, Milkovich_." 

For the rest of the day, Mickey could  _not_ stop smiling. 

James and Elliot went home with war wounds for teasing him about it. 

* 

They've seen each other naked. 

They've showered, and touched, and licked and kissed every part of each other's bodies. 

So why Ian felt so stuffy underneath his clothes the minute he saw Mickey all dressed up  _for him_ was beyond him. 

He had never felt so _hot_ seeing Mickey fully clothed before. 

It was so strange. 

He was definitely going to have fun ripping all those clothes off of Mick if it ever came to that.

"You're staring." Mickey said, trying to hide the fact that Ian staring was making him feel self conscious. 

"Got a problem with that?" Ian breathed out, smiling lazily. Mickey rolled his eyes. 

"We doin' this or not?" Mickey asked, pushing past the taller male. 

"I'll get your door for you." Ian said, running around the car to open it for Mickey. Mickey clicked his tongue. 

"Fuck off, I can do it myself." Mickey said, nudging Ian away. 

"I love it when you get all assertive on me." Ian grinned. Mickey flipped him off. 

The drive down to Sizzler's was, to say in the least, was awkward. 

The notion of this being a  _date_ was such a strange concept for both of them to grasp. 

Ian's been on plenty. 

Mickey's been on none. 

Both didn't know what to do. 

"Wanna smoke some weed first?" Mickey asked as Ian pulled up into the parking lot of a Sizzler's outlet. 

"Yeah, let's do that." Ian quickly agreed. "You brought some with you?" He asked as Mickey lifted his ass off the seat to fetch the small bag of joints in his back pocket. Sitting back down into the seat, he handed the bag to Ian. 

"You didn't?" Mickey questioned. 

"I was thinking of straight edging it tonight." Ian admitted, taking out a rolled joint. Mickey fished out a lighter from his front pocket and lit it up once Ian placed the joint between his lips. He inhaled deeply, letting the smoke burn his lungs before exhaling out through his nose. He passed it to Mickey.

"No fuckin' way we're doing this sober." Mickey said, taking a hit. "Not our style." 

"Yeah, it isn't." Ian smiled, letting the weed relax his system. 

The dinner at Sizzler's was nice. 

The place crawled with families and the elderlyー but with them both high and in love, Ian and Mickey felt anything _but_ their own age. 

Like kids with the wallets of adults. 

They went crazy on the menu, giggling and drinking and forgetting what a  _date_ really should be likeー it just felt like how they hung out for the sake of hanging out all those years ago. 

Mickey agreed to the date under the pretence that it would be  _romantic_ and  _bubbly_ and full of sexual tension. 

He wouldn't have minded if it was like that. 

But them, laughing over nothing, getting up to pee every two seconds because they raided the soft drinks menu, and burping loudly with piss poor table manners was anything  _but_ romantic. 

Stuffing their faces, making a messー in its own way, it was kind of romantic. 

It was their kind of romance that only they knewー the comfortableness they felt when they're around each otherー it felt like home.

And this would've been their first date. It  _was_ their first date.

Their date at Sizzler's. 

Only just now, they're a little older and had less blood on their faces. 

It was nice. 

It was lovely. 

And it was just them.

*

Six beers in Mickey's system and four joints later, Ian dragged the brunet down from Sizzler's all the way into Boystown. Ian had only little sips of Mickey's alcohol, still trying to convince the brunet it was  _fine_ to be a little straight edge for their date. 

Mickey wasn't convinced because  _one joint in your fuckin' system and you've already fallen off the wagon, you numbnuts_. Ian rejected Mickey's reasoning. 

But he was the more sober one of the two. 

That's how Ian managed to convince Mickey to head into Boystown and dance like  _everyone's watching_. 

"I'm telling you," Mickey said as Ian guided the shorter male into one of the clubs, "I  _don't_ dance. You ever see me fuckin' dance? I don't dance." 

"Which is  _why_ we  _should!_ " Ian reasoned, already moving his body to the beat blaring through the sound systems. 

"I fuckin' hate places like this!" Mickey exclaimed, reluctantly letting himself get dragged into the dance floor. "Watching all those fat fucks put their greedy hands on you," 

"Don't think about the past," Ian said, bringing himself close to speak directly into Mickey's ear. "Don't think about the old me. Think about the me right now."

Ian began swaying his hips, planting his hands around Mickey's waist. 

"Well the you right now is givin' me a boner, grinding up on me like that." Mickey slurred, naturally draping his arms over Ian's shoulders. He let his own hips be swayed by Ian's hands, biting his lower lip whenever their groins brushed up against each other in a way he liked it. 

"Hmm, good." Ian purred, licking the shell of Mickey's ear, causing Mickey to shudder. 

"Fuck." Mickey murmured. 

Ian chuckled. "Maybe later? Didn't know you're the kind of guy to put out after one date." 

"Fuck you." Mickey said, scratching the back of Ian's hair, pulling on the strands. 

"Wished we did this kind of shit back then. Wished we lived a little more." Ian confessed against Mickey's lips, slowly becoming more bold with his grinds. The soft grunts he heard from Mickey made him also wish they were some place quietー some place more isolated. 

Ian didn't want anyone  _but himself_ hearing Mickey moan. 

"We doin' this now, aren't we?" Mickey said, pressing his forehead against Ian's. "Ain't that all that matters?"

"Can I kiss you?" Ian asked, nuzzling his nose against Mickey's. "I know some people don't like to kiss on their first dateー" 

"Shut the fuck up, Gallagher." Mickey interrupted before crashing his lips onto Ian's. Ian smiled into the kiss, lowering his hands down to cup Mickey's ass over his pants, pulling the brunet closer. 

Mickey's hands grasped the back of Ian's head, slipping in his tongue the second he got the chance. 

It was like their first kiss in the club, back when Mickey was closeted, only this time, he wasn't afraid. 

He wasn't scaredー he didn't hesitate. 

He just did it.

It made him feel freer than ever; to be like this with Ian, to be out in the open without a care. 

It was nice to just  _not give a shit_ for once. 

"Hey," Ian said as soon as they parted for air, "Wanna go con some rich fuck for some money?" 

"Why we need money for?" Mickey asked a little breathlessly, mind spinning. 

"So I can fuck you in a five-star hotel." Ian grinned, licking his lips as he brushed back Mickey's hair. 

Even under the fluorescent lights of the club, Ian could see the light blush that spread across Mickey's cheeks. It could be because he was hot, or that he was drunk. Either way, Ian fought the urge to tear off Mickey's clothes right then and there.

"Who says I put out on the first date?" Mickey eventually replied, unable to hide his smirk. Ian wiggled his eyebrows and Mickey just shook his head. "Alright, fine. I'm game."

"Game." Ian repeated, enveloping Mickey's head in a hug as Ian scanned the club for their first victim.

*

With the hotel room filled with the smell of smoke and sex, Mickey lied comfortably under Ian's arm, basking in the afterglow of their  _session_.

The room was now dark with only the natural light from outside beaming in, and both Ian and Mickey, despite going on for several rounds, were far from tired. 

And for some reason, their comfortable silence lead to them believing that this was the end of their date. 

Mickey wanted to ask where they were going to go on from this point; the underlying notion of them getting back togetherー and  _really_ getting back together, lingered in his mind. But Mickey didn't want to ask again what they were. He was still sure Ian didn't know. 

However, Ian was on his way on making his decision. It was just about letting Mickey know that could potentially seal the deal. 

"It was Trevor's idea." Ian began, smoking the last joint. He exhaled shakily before handing it to Mickey. "He was the one who told me to go on one with you." 

Mickey took a drag. "He knows?" 

Ian chuckled pathetically. "Not only that, he  _saw_." He informed. "Caught us in bed. Didn't even notice he was there." 

"Fuck." Mickey sighed. "Sorry, man." 

"It's fine." Ian shrugged. "I mean, it's not, obviously. But you know," 

"Why he telling us to date?" Mickey asked. 

"Told him we never went on one." Ian confessed. 

"So what, he gave you a pass or some shit?" 

"Considering I cheated on him, it makes no sense, right?" 

Mickey hummed. "But?" 

"I have to chooseー you or him." Ian said. "I guess with this date, you and me have done almost everything me and him have done. Well, I mean, you know, the typical couple stuff." 

"You guys ever do whatever you and me do?" 

Ian shook his head. "Never conned someone," 

"Samaritan." Mickey commented. 

"We never fucked outdoors, we never seduced a priest and trick him into liking a blowjob from a guy," Ian listed and Mickey started laughing. "But seriously though, I don't know. You and me have our shit that only we've done, same like me and Trev." 

"So, what do you choose?" Mickey asked, drawing nonsensically with his finger on Ian's chest. 

"I really liked this." Ian diverted. "I really liked this date. Fuck, it just made me fall in love with you all over again."

"I did too." Mickey agreed, silently bracing for that  _but_. 

Ian sighed. "But I need to know something from you before I... decide." 

"What?" 

"If I... If I leave Trevor, if I choose you, what would our lives look like right now? What would be different from the lives we had eight years ago?" Ian asked. 

"Honestly?" Mickey started. 

"No, fuckin' lie to me." Ian joked. 

"Shut the fuck up." Mickey smiled. "But honestly, nothing." 

"Nothing?" Ian asked. 

Mickey nodded. "Nothing would be different. Everything's the same." 

"What do you mean?" 

Mickey sat up, twisting his body to look down at Ian. "We went to  _Sizzler's_ , Ian." 

"And, so?" 

"So, we did what we were 'bout to do eight years ago." Mickey said. "Made out in Boystown, just like eight years ago. Fuckin' stole money from closeted rich men,  _just like eight years ago._ "

"What are you saying?" Ian asked, cocking his head to the side as he looked up at the brunet. Mickey rubbed his face. 

"I'm saying  _nothing has changed_. We doing what we did back then." Mickey pointed out. "Fuck, even our circumstances back then are still the same now." 

"Fuck's that mean?" Ian asked, hiking himself up on his elbows. 

Mickey closed his eyes momentarily, trying to calm himself before he said, "I married Svetlana again." 

"You did what?" Ian murmured, immediately sobering up. 

"I had to, Ian." Mickey confessed quietly. He hoped that his soft tone would let Ian know he wasn't up for a fight. 

It was no use. Now, Ian was sitting up completely as he said, "What do you mean " _you had to_ "? What does that even mean?" 

"Look, she was going to get deportedー" 

"Oh, so you thought marrying her would be a great fuckin' idea?" Ian interrupted, voice raising a little. 

Mickey moved back, "I don't understand why you're so fuckin' mad for!" 

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because she _ruined our lives_." Ian said incredulously. "Or did you forget that she _raped_ you? And _forced_ you into marriage? Or did you guys do all that again just for old time's sake?" 

"Fuck you!" Mickey shouted. "She was put at gun point as much as we fuckin' were! And, I don't know if _you_ remember but she's _also_ the mother of my fuckin' kid!" 

"That you didn't even want!" Ian countered. "Jesus fucking Christ, Mick. You didn't even," And Ian struggled to finish his sentence, but Mickey knew _exactly_ what he was going to say.

"Didn't even what?" Mickey challenged. "Didn't ask you for your fuckin' permission? Like I'm your property?"

"No!" Ian groaned. "That's not what I meant," He said, rubbing his face. "It's justー you got  _married?_   _When?_ " 

Mickey sighed. "Last Sunday." 

"Last Sunday?" Ian repeated. "We were together last Sunday? What the fuck happened?" 

"Like I said, Svetlanaー" 

"You told me you'd wait." Ian repeated, eyebrows strewn together in confusion. 

"I did," Mickey assured. "But that doesn't mean I have to put my  _life_ on hold." He explained. "And Ian, maybe before you were all I ever thought about but it's  _different now_."

"How is this different?" Ian questioned. "It's  _exactly the same_." 

"Ian, I love my kid." Mickey said, defeated. "I love Yevgeny. At first, I didn't. I'm not about to lie about that. He's the reason everything between us got fuckedー but it's not his fault. And I don't expect you to understand but he's my son. I did what I did for  _my son_."

Mickey then leaned in close, placing a hand on Ian's cheek. "And you don't get to be mad at me for not  _"waiting"_ , Ian." 

"It hasn't even been a fuckin' week." Ian said. "It was barely a week and you go off and justー fucking hell." 

Mickey pressed his lips against Ian's, kissing the redhead slowly. He then parted back before saying, "If you think that's hard, try imagining eight fuckin' years." He said softly. "Guess we can't just wait for each other, huh?" 

Ian held onto Mickey's hand, closing his eyes. "So, what do we do now?" 

*

It was almost one a.m. when Trevor forced himself to continue to stay up. Pacing restlessly across the living room, he waited for Ian to come back home.

To come back to _him_. 

To  _choose_ him. 

His mind raced with all the possibilities on why Ian was lateー

There's traffic.  _It's a Saturday night with most people just hailing cabs._

The car broke down.  _It's a new car._

Too drunk to drive home.  _Ian wouldn't be stupid to drink too much on his meds_. 

He refused to believe that Ian... That Ian would  _choose_ Mickey. 

He didn't want to believe it as much as all signs indicated exactly that. 

As the hours fly by and the seconds tick down, Trevor found himself getting drowsy and anxious for a signー _any sign_. 

The sounds of keys beyond the front door or at least a  _car_ (theirs or even a taxi) pulling up onto the street out front. 

Nothing. 

There was nothing. 

Soon, Trevor just could not stay up any longer. 

He crashed on the couch, hoping to not wake up the next morning alone. 

* 

He didn't. 

Ian was there, on the couch right next to him, sleeping soundly. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for two things: one, for taking so long to update, and two: if this chapter doesn't make sense. 
> 
> It's in my notes, so hopefully the next chapter will clear up anything that may be confusing here. 
> 
> (This was hard to write, sorry!)

There were a lot of things that Svetlana seldom got surprised by.

One of those things were Mickey Milkovich.

He was an open book, pretty much predictable as the weather, and because of that, she managed to manipulate him into doing a lot of things in the past.

But this wasn't the past.

 _This_ Mickey was just full of surprises.

From meeting up with her, asking her and Yevgeny to move in and live in with himー the marriageー he did everything the Mickey of eight years ago had been forced to do.

So waking up in bed with him right next to her shouldn't surprise her, it really shouldn't.

There were a lot of things Mickey would do, but this just didn't make any sense.

Svetlana sat up, head reeling from getting up too fast as she squinted in the darkness of the apartment. The clock wall said it was almost eight-thirty a.m., both Mickey and Yevgeny slept quietly in their respective places, except this place wasn't Mickey's place.

It was her bed.

He was in it.

What the hell happened last night?

She peeled the blanket off herself, careful to not stir Mickeyー she concluded that he got too drunk and just crashed, unsure of where he did. She'd hound him about last night later.

Lightly getting out of bed, Svetlana made her way into the kitchen, turning on the light. She then commenced brewing some coffee, soon checking the cupboards for what she could cook.

She sighed.

They needed to go grocery shopping.

She looked over at the sleeping Mickey before grabbing a robe to wrap around herself. She headed downstairs into the shop before coming back with a set of keys about ten minutes later.

In the bathroom and out half an hour later, Svetlana was set for the day. Teeth brushed, face washed, make up light but flatteringー she stood by Mickey's head.

She stared at him for a while, more along the lines of pure fascination if anything, before crouching down in front of him.

"Mickey." She said in attempts to wake him. "Oi, Mickey." She prodded him with soft fingers until he stirred awake.

"What?" He mumbled, voice sleep clogged. He rubbed his eye with his palm before realising where he was. "Shit, sorry."

"Your date with orange boy goes shit?" She asked. Mickey looked at her through squinted eyes before signing deeply. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Mickey said, slowly sitting up. Svetlana clicked her tongue, standing. She headed over to the kitchen and poured Mickey a cup of coffee. She returned back to him just as he moved to plant his feet on the ground.

"You sleep in bed." Svetlana said, withdrawing the coffee back right when Mickey reached out for it. "You sleep in _my_ bed, you tell me what happened last night."

Mickey glanced to the side, "Fine."

She gives him the cup of coffee before sitting next to him on the bed. She waited patiently as he took tentative sips. Eventually, he spoke, "Told him we got married."

"No approve?" Svetlana inquired.

"Who gives a shit if he approves of it or not?" Mickey countered.

"You?"

"We're not together." Mickey spat out. "And yeah, I wish he figured everything out before you and me... But if I waited when I said I would, Yevgeny would'veー you know."

"So you say if you and him are couple, you ask him first if you and me marry?"

Mickey shook his head. "No."

"Then what?"

"If we were together, guess I would've been okay if he got angry." He shrugged. "He'd have every right, I guess."

"So you are mad he got mad at you?" Svetlana pieced.

"He had no right." Mickey concluded. "Like I said, if things were different, then maybe, but the way he looked at me, like I fuckin' betrayed him or some shitー like he's never done that to me? Like he's never done wrong by me?"

"So is even now?"

"Jesus, no, it's not about getting back at him!" Mickey almost growled. He inhaled deeply before speaking a little more softly, "It's the fact that, I don't know, like he expected me to revolve my life around him, like I had to stop everything else going on just for him. I'm not that guy anymore. Spent years being that guy. Ain't him no more."

"You also spent years being, what, a couple?" Svetlana asked.

Mickey snorted. "Fuckbuddies at first. But yeah. Shit."

"What?"

"We... We weren't even friends, actually." Mickey said, trying to recall anything resembling some kind of friendship between him and Ian.

Nothing.

"You are serious?"

Mickey shrugged, "We fought. We fucked. Then we became something more. Don't know how it happened but it did."

Svetlana pursed her lips. "You love carrot boy, yes?"

Mickey couldn't help but feel thrown by that. "Huh?"

"Yes?" She pressed.

"Yeah." Mickey said.

"But couple is no good, yes?"

"Fuck you going with this?" Mickey asked, suspicious.

"How about you try friends then?" She suggested. "You love him, he loves you, but together, your love is shit. Because is romantic. How about friend love?"

Now Mickey was really confused.

Svetlana rolled her eyes. "You try something you and Ian have not tried before. You try being friends."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you do things in wrong order." She berated. "You do not fuck people you fight. You be friends first. Fall in love. Be couple. Get married. Have kids. That is the correct order. If it is not, then it is fucked up." She explained, raising an eyebrow as if to hint at their own relationship.

Sure, it's fucked up, but it worked.

Maybe because both Mickey and Svetlana's intentions were clear. His and Ian's were not.

Ian breaks up with _that guy_ , then what? Ian and Mickey are a couple just like that?

No.

It couldn't be that simple.

They were both different people.

Different priorities.

Ian had priorities to a man he's been with for seven fucking years.

Mickey had priorities to his sonー someone he voluntarily wanted to be in his life again.

There was no way they could just drop everything to be with each other. They were older nowー their youth was creeping away.

Mickey was thirty already; Ian only lagged by a couple years short of that.

It was time they settled.

If it wasn't with each other, then so be it.

But Mickey wanted to exercise every single route with Ian before he called it quits and just moved on.

He wanted to try this friends thing.

But first...

"I gotta get ready for work." Mickey said, standing.

"No work." Svetlana announced. "I tell your boss already you take day off."

"Why'd you do that!" Mickey exclaimed.

"We need to go grocery shopping." She informed nonchalantly.

"And you can't do that yourself?"

Svetlana stood from the bed, walking over to the kitchen counter. She grabbed a set of keys and dangled it. "I ask your boss for car keys. Said you need to help family."

"And he said okay?"

"He says it is bullshit, but he lets." Svetlana shrugged.

"And you think you can just decide this shit for me?" Mickey continued to argue, despite her already deciding for him that he should try being friends with Ian (not that he'd tell her that just yet).

"I am your spouse." She said. "I do wifely duties. You do your husbandly duties."

Mickey stared at her like she just grew another head before walking into the bathroom. "Shut up with your _wifely duties_ shit."

*

It wasn't until they packed the groceries into the boot of the car did Mickey wrack up the courage to actually initiate the whole _friends_ thing with Ian.

He looked at the plastic bags that held a carton of beer and a few party snacks before glancing up at Svetlana. She just finished buckling in Yevgeny in the back seat.

Then the idea just came to him.

"Who are you calling?" Svetlana asked, closing the car door. Mickey had his phone to his ear, waiting for the call to go through. He hushed her with his hand, biting his lower lip as Svetlana crossed her arms in slight annoyance. 

It took a few rings, but eventually Ian answered, " _Mickey_?"

"You busy?" Mickey asked almost straight away. It sounded like Ian was in a bathroom or something. 

" _Why?_ ' Ian questioned hesitantly. 

"I wanna talk." 

" _Now's not really a good time,_ " Ian said. 

Mickey's first instinct was to ask  _when would be a good time_ , but he felt like if he postponed this right  _now_ , he'd never get around to it. "It's just for a minute. Won't take long."

" _Guessing it's something that can't be said over the phone?_ " Ian quickly deducted. Mickey laughed. 

"Yeah." Mickey said. "Where are you now?"

" _Um, I'm at Lip's._ " 

"What's his address?" 

He heard Ian sigh. " _I'm... I'm not alone._ " He said. " _Well, I mean, obviously, but, uh, Carl's here. And Trevor._ " 

Mickey grimaced. "That's fine. They don't have to see me or anything. You could just step out for a bit; don't even gotta know I came by." 

" _Um, okay. Okay. I'll text you the address._ " Ian replied, albeit reluctant.

"See you, Gallagher." Mickey said. 

" _Yeah, see you._ " Ian parroted before hanging up. 

"So you are trying straight away?" Svetlana said as soon as Mickey pocketed his phone. 

"What?" Mickey asked, a little high from hearing Ian's voice. It then registered and he nodded, "Yeah. Guess so." 

Svetlana hummed. "So your plan is what?" 

"I don't fuckin' know." Mickey shrugged. He then looked at Yevgeny who was in the backseat. Then at Svetlana. Then his phone buzzed. "I'm taking the kid." 

"What?" 

Mickey closed the trunk of the car before rounding to the front. "Get in." He said. 

Svetlana clicked her tongue. 

* 

"Still do not understand why you need Yevgeny." Svetlana muttered. 

Driving down to Lip's apartment before parking a few feet away across the street, Mickey rolled his eyes. "Told you already. Can't say no to a kid." 

"And you say you only need a minute?" She questioned, turning in her seat to face Mickey. 

"Just take the shit back home, chill for like an hour and then come pick us up." Mickey said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Not that hard to understand, right?" 

"Wrong," She countered. "Is _very_ confusing." 

"Then don't hurt yourself thinkin' 'bout it."Mickey opened the door and gets out, opening the back door. "Let's go, Yev." The kid also gets out almost eagerly. 

Mickey shoves the key into the keyhole of the trunk, opening it up, taking the plastic bags that held beer and snacks. He then slams it shut with his elbow just as Svetlana gets out of the car. 

"I hurt  _you_ if you don't explain properly." She said, squaring up in front of Mickey. 

Mickey sighed, holding the bags in one hand and Yevgeny's hand in the other. "Look, like I said, I'm just gonna go in there, couple of drinks, an hour, tops. Make nicey-nice friendship crap and be done." 

"And Yevgeny?" 

"Oh my Godー just take this?" Mickey let go of Yev and dug into his pocket to retrieve the car keys, handing it to her. "An  _hour_." 

She glared at the keys before begrudgingly taking it. "Fine." She said. "I give you two." 

"Whatever." Mickey said, taking Yevgeny's hand, He looked both ways before crossing the street. 

* 

He thought he thought it through. On the drive to Lip's place from the mall, he had it all mapped out; his intentions clear and sound.

But standing in front of the apartment door, he wavered. He wondered if he should knock or text, but his earlier conversation with Ian made that choice obvious. 

However, Mickey  _lied_. A white lie, sure, but fuck all if this conversation was just going to happen over one moment. 

They weren't a couple anymore, that much was clear. 

Ian went home to Trevor whereas Mickey went home to Yevgeny. They have made their decision that it  _just wouldn't work_. At least not now. 

Not where they are at this point in their lives. 

But that did not mean they had to cut out each other completely. 

Of course, it had been like that for the good part of eight years, and of course it was easier to just leave their relationship where it ended on their  _date_. 

But Mickey didn't want it to be a repeat of that moment eight years ago where Ian said he'd  _wait_ , leaving Mickey with no closure in the least. 

False hope it was. 

This time, however, it was going to be different. 

Mickey was going to put himself first. 

For once in his fucking life, he was going to be selfish. 

If taking care of himself was selfish then so be it, and if  _friends_ were all he and Ian could be, then that's his kind of closure. 

He can live with whatever outcome that'll arise from today. 

Even if it hurts, even if everything turns out okay, he'll learn to deal. 

It's what he knows best after knowing Ian for years. 

He knocked on the door. 

Ian answered it. "Hey." He whispered, but before Ian could step outside the door, Mickey pushed it wide open. 

And plain as day, Lip, Carl and Trevor saw him. 

"Hey." Mickey replied nonchalantly. 

"What are you doing?" Ian said in a hushed but panicked voice. 

"Brought over some snacks. Thought we could hang." He replied, lifting the bags in his hand for emphasis. 

"Mickey," 

"You Trevor?" Mickey asked, looking beyond Ian's shoulder at the brunet.

"I'm guessing you're Mickey?" Trevor said with a tight lip. 

"Yeah," Mickey nodded. "Nice to meet you." 

"I really wish I could say the same to you." Trevor petulantly said, raising his eyebrows in suspicion. 

"Mickey, what are you doing?" Ian repeated, a little louder. 

Mickey shrugged. "I wanna try something." He answered. "Wanna try something we never did before." 

Ian swallowed, hearing Trevor scoff behind him. "I don't thinkー we should probably talk in privateー" 

"No." Mickey quickly declined. "Not a good idea with your man glaring daggers at me." Mickey said jokingly. 

"I thought you only wanted to talk for a second?" Ian questioned. 

"Yeah, I lied." Mickey said. Ian looked at him with a confused expression. "What, like you've never lied before, huh, tough guy?" Mickey teased with an easy smile. "Can I come in?" 

Ian sighed. "What are you gonna do if I say no?" 

"You can't say no." Mickey stated. 

"And why not?" 

Mickeg stepped to the side. "Brought my kid with me." He said, revealing Yevgeny who'd been hiding behind Mickey. "You _can_ say no to me, but..." 

Ian looked at the little blond, seemingly drooping his shoulders in defeat. He then turned, looking at his brothers and Trevor as if searching for answers. 

Collectively, they all knew what Ian was thinking but it wasn't until Trevor nodded once did Ian cock his head, gesturing for the Milkovich boys to come inside. 

Once the door was closed, Ian asked, "So what did you wanna try?" 

"I wanna try being friends." Mickey said. "We never were before. Maybe it's what's best for us." _For now, at least_. "And maybe also apologise to him?" He added, nodding at Trevor who couldn't help but avoid Mickey's gaze. 

"Hi uncle Ian." Yevgeny suddenly said, somehow easing the tension in the room if by a little bit. 

"Hey." Ian smiled at the kid, kneeling down in front of him so they were at eye level. "Your dad's a sly fox, huh?" 

"I don't know what that means." Yevgeny said.  That made Ian laugh. He ruffled Yevgeny's hair affectionately. 

"You're so big now. I remember when you were just a baby." Ian recalled fondly. "You remember me when you were younger?" 

Yevgeny bit his lip, trying to wrack up the earliest memories of Ian. He then shook his head. "No. But mama told me a lot." 

"What'd she tell you?" Ian asked. 

"Um... You took me away on a drive before." 

Ian immediately shot a glance up at Mickey who was as equally shocked by what Yevgeny said. 

"You know why he did that?" Mickey suddenly stepped in, now also crouching in front of his son.

Yevgeny shook his head again. 

Mickey fixed up Yevgeny's clothes as some kind of habit as he said, "'Cause he loved you a lot. He took care of you when daddy didn't wanna. He fed you, looked after you, changed your diapersー all sorts of shit." And he couldn't bring himself to say anything beyond that that wasn't a lie. 

He didn't want Yevgeny to be one of those people he lied to. 

Diverting was his only way to stave off bad truths, and truthfully, he didn't want Yevgeny's mind to float and linger on the drive itself but on Ian and what he did for him instead. 

"Does uncle Ian still love me?" Yevgeny asked his dad. Mickey looked at Ian then back at his kid. 

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" 

Yevgeny turned to look at Ian. "Do you still love me, uncle Ian?" 

Ian smiled and nodded. "Yeah, of course." 

"Are you gonna be my dad's friend?" 

Ian nodded, albeit tentatively. 

Unlike Mickey, he was okay with lying to kids.

* 

Lip, Carl, Trevor and Yevgeny were in the living room playing cards as Ian and Mickey lingered by the kitchen island in deep conversation.

They stayed parallel to each other at a considerable space apart, but from Trevor's point of view, it was like they were in a world of their own. 

Trevor had already painted a picture of what Mickey was likeー he was in jail, a criminal, the kind of guy who could careless if he was the mistress of a taken guy. 

In all fairness, it wasn't really Mickey's fault. Trevor knew that, he really did. It was Ian he had to blameー and he did blame Ian; he should've known better. But he couldn't bring himself to hate Ian. 

Trevor loves him, and it was _so_ much easier to hate the guy who made Ian forget he ever existed. 

To make Ian forget the last seven years of their lives together. 

And the _nerve_ Mickey had to just show up like he was never gone, like he forgot Ian chose him last nightー it _irritated_ Trevor. And now, to put a face to a man who made Ian cheat on himー it made him hate Mickey more. 

Trevor wasn't oblivious to the _fuck u-up_ tattoosー it just gave him more of reason to stick to his thoughts that yeah, Ian fell for a _thug_. 

Trevor felt like he was better than that Southside trash. 

In ways, maybe he was. 

He felt like he was _good_ for Ian. 

Better than that low level criminal convicted of only _God_ knows what. 

So what was hard for him to comphrened was _why?_  

Why was Mickey so much better than him?

What did Mickey have that Trevor couldn't possibly offer to Ian?

What was so good about Mickey to have made Carl call him Ian's soulmate? 

Why was Mickey Milkovich so damn special? 

There was something about him that Trevor couldn't see, that Trevor could probably never understand. 

Mickey was like Ian's anchor. 

Like a magnet. 

And gravity just kept pulling them in to one another. 

Trevor couldn't help but feel inferior to that.

The way Ian looked at Mickey, like he had the sun in his eyes; so bright, so full of lightー

And the soft smiles Ian gave Mickey; the crinkles near his eyes as he laughed at something Mickey saidー in private or not, it didn't matter. 

Ian just _could not hide_ how fucking in love he was in with Mickey fucking Milkovich. 

Trevor wanted so badly to just keep the image he painted of Mickey; he wanted to just keep hating him for being the guy that made Ian look like that. 

But seeing him now in the flesh; seeing him and his gentle voice and calm expressionsー and _of course_ he has a fucking kid whom he loves like any lovesick parentー

He hated how his heart warmed up at the way Mickey spoke to his kid. 

He also hated how Ian spoke to the kid like he was his own. 

Trevor never knew the world Ian had with Mickey Milkovich. He never heard of the guy beforeー not even _once_. Not even a little story about him with his name just omitted. 

Nothing. 

And now Trevor knew why. 

Ian fell in too deep with a man who got ripped away from him. 

In a way, Trevor could understand. 

But not completely. 

He wanted to learn more about him.

He wanted to give himself a more plausible reason to hate him. 

*

"I'm gonna go for a smoke." Mickey informed, gesturing towards the balcony.

"It's fine if you smoke here." Lip said, entering the kitchen to retrieve another beer. 

"Nah, kid's here." Mickey said, nodding at Yevgeny. He was currently being entertained by one of Lip's prototype inventions after being bored of sitting through card games. 

"So it's fine if you drink in front of him but not smoke?" Lip questioned with a smile. 

Mickey took a swig of his beer. "He ain't getting drunk watching me drink." He then looks at Ian. "You coming?" 

"I'll join you later." Ian said. 

"Okay." Mickey nodded once before heading out onto the balcony, but not before stopping in front of Trevor and Carl. "You smoke weed?"

"Could go for a blunt." Trevor said, standing. And they looked at each other like they knew what this smoke meantー a one on one conversation. 

"Same here." Carl said, opening the balcony door. 

Maybe a one on one with an audience conversation then. 

Sitting on the chairs set outside the vast balcony, the three of them settled on just smoking a bit; Mickey and Trevor for the sake of calming their nerves and Carl just for the sake of it. 

It was Mickey who spoke first. "I'm sorry." He said, apologising to Trevor. 

No array of responses to an apology deemed itself usable in this context so Trevor just nodded in acknowledgment. Mickey accepted that. 

"So, you really saw my brother and his ex fucking?" Carl asked bluntly. 

So much for subtlety. 

"Jesus Christ, Carl." Mickey sighed as Trevor took a deep hit of the joint. 

"What?" Carl said. "You know, this is weird, right?" 

"Yeah, no shit." Mickey replied. "So, what's up with you, kid?" 

"Since you've been locked up?" Carl said. Mickey shrugged like it didn't really matterー he just asked so they could probably ease into a conversation. "A lot."

"You gonna fill me in? How was juvie?"

Carl took a hit. "It was aight. Learnt a lot. Seen a lot. But that kinda life wasn't for me, so I got out. Well, with the help of Fiona's boyfriend at the time." 

"Oh, yeah," Mickey sounded amused. "How was that?" 

"Fucking humiliating." Carl huffed. "But worth it. Working the corner turned into people getting... Didn't wanna see that shit anymore." 

Mickey nodded. "Yeah, I get it. Living in Southside and actually working the way we didー that's no life for a kid like you. Why'd you even get into that shit? Other than you being a fuckin' idiot?"

Carl laughed. "Cause you were?" 

Mickey cocked his head to the side. "Huh?" 

Carl shrugged, suddenly looking bashful. "Thought it was cool. You were the neighbourhood thug. Everyone knew you. You commanded fear, took no shit from nobody, and you're fuckin' short." 

"Fuck you." Mickey smiled. 

"Thought it was how it was supposed to be." Carl said. Mickey shook his head. 

"No, what happened to me was how it was supposed to be." Mickey said, glancing at Trevor. "Fucked for life." He made a show of wiggling his tattooed knuckles for emphasis. 

"How were we any different?" Carl asked and Mickey couldn't help but scoff. 

"Easyー had a dickhead of a father, dead mother and no Fiona." Mickey said as if it was the most obvious thing ever. 

"Frank's a dickhead." 

"Yeah, but he still loved all of you. No matter what you guys turned out to be, no matter who you were." Mickey said. "What I got for being me was a good pistol whippin' and a close call with death. More than once." He laughed at the absurdity of it. 

"Kinda wished I was there to see it." Carl said, kind of getting what Mickey was alluding to. 

"What, Ian never told you?" 

Carl shook his head. "Nah, kinda just heard bits and pieces. And he was always with you. Then there was the thing..." 

"Yeah." Mickey said. 

"But you know, I still looked up to you even when you went soft." Carl confessed. "You were still badass."

"Oh, yeah? And look what happened. Eight years gone." 

"You regret it?" 

Mickey wasn't really sure how to answer that. Initially, no. He didn't. Given the chance, he would've done it again. 

That _bitch_ messed with _his_ man. 

Obviously he didn't intend to kill her, though there were days in jail where he wished he did. But what happened happened and it's all tucked away in the past. Of course it was all for nothing, but the fact remained: thinking about it now won't change a damn thing  

And there was no point in investing in _what ifs_. 

"Nah." Mickey answered. 

"Um," Trevor suddenly spoke up. Both Carl and Mickey turned to him. "Can I ask... what you went in for?" 

"Attempted murder." Mickey said. 

"Oh." Trevor tried to not look pressed.

"It was our half-sister." Carl explained. "She ratted out Ian to the MP's, he got arrested, and Mickey was in love and went all _revenge_ on her ass." 

"Fuck's with that gay ass explanation?" Mickey commented. 

But now Trevor understood what Lip meant when he said the Milkovichs went beyond lengths for someone if they fell in love with them. 

It kind of made him wonder if he'd ever go that far for Ianー as far as Mickey went. 

He lacked confidence despite spending years with Ian. 

The look of concern on Trevor's face somehow made Mickey relax a little. "If it makes you feel any better, all the times I got locked up, it was only because of Ian." 

"How would that make me feel any better?" Trevor questioned. 

"Besides the last time, the first couple times I landed my ass in juvie, was because I was so deep in the closet, I rather go to jail than admit it." 

"How does that even relate?" Trevor asked, trying to connect the dots. "You went to juvie cause you're gay? I don't get it?" 

Mickey could now tell Trevor was loosening up as well as he proceeded to tell stories of his youth with Ianー no embarrassing moment spared, and in a way that convinced Trevor that it was only just memories. 

Now nothing more. 

* 

"Hey, it's still a work in progress. The voice activation crap isn't up to scratch just yet." Lip said as he watched Yevgeny play with the robotic dog he crafted in the lab. 

"You should just get a real dog," Yevgeng said, not taking his eyes off the moving metal heap. 

"Nah. Shit at looking after real dogs." Lip replied. Ian rolled his eyes. 

"You swear a lot." Yevgeny commented. 

"Yeah, so does your dad." Lip huffed, taking a small sip of his beer. He and Ian stood by the kitchen island, eyes focusing between Yev in the living room and the three men out on the balcony. 

"What do you think they're talking about out there?" Ian asked, albeit more for Lip's ears only. 

"Fuck if I know, why don't you go out there and find out?" Lip suggested. "What, can't handle your ex-boyfriend and current boyfriend being civil?" 

"It's fucking weird." 

"Yeah, no shit." Lip laughed. "Hey, wonder how that threesome would play out?" 

"Shut up." Ian dismissed. 

"Just between us, which one of them's a better fuck?" 

" _Lip_." Ian groaned out in annoyance. 

"Ian." Lip said, a little less annoyed. "The fuck you doing?" 

"What?" 

"What?" Lip repeated. "Don't _what_ me, you know what." 

"If I knew what, I wouldn't be fuckin' asking!" 

"You're not _that_ dumb, are you?" Lip asked rhetorically. "What, you choose Trevor but crawl back inside Mickey's ass cause of  _what?_ He wants to be friends?" 

"What's wrong with that?" 

"What isn't?" Lip stressed out. "You can't be friends with someone you've fucked. Or someone you've been in a relationship with." 

"And why the fuck not?" 

Before Lip could answer, the brothers were momentarily stunned by a sound that confused Lip but made Ian's heart flutter. 

Mickey's laughter. 

Even through the glass door, they could hear it. And like a magnet, Ian was immediately drawn. 

He looked over at the balconyー Carl and Trevor were smiling too, but it was only Mickey that Ian saw. 

Only Mickey that caught Ian's attention. 

But the fluttering in his heart wasn't because his body loved the sound he heard, but rather rage. 

Ian was angry. 

He watched as Mickey spoke with an animated expressionー the subtle smiles and the shaking of his shoulders as he laughedー 

He hated it. 

He hated the way how easily Mickey opened up. He hated how easy it was to make him smile.

He hated how he was no longer the only one to make Mickey happy.

He hated it.

He hate hate _hated_ it.

And somehow, Lip knew it. He could read his little brother like a book when others found him hard to decipher. 

Ian didn't know what was going to happen when he told Mickey it was okay to come. And the concept of them being friends once the opportunity rose remained foreign to him. 

Even with his little conversation with Mickey earlier, it felt still the same. 

It didn't feel like a _friend_ conversation. It just felt like any other one he's had with him. It felt like they were a couple. 

No secretsー nothing to be hidden. 

It felt good.

And in that moment, Ian _knew_ what Lip was going to sayー

He just couldn't be friends with Mickey Milkovich knowing that they could've been so much more. 

* 

"So, Mickey," Trevor began as soon as he and Ian arrived home. 

"What about him?" Ian asked, flopping down onto the couch. Their cats, Tony and Cleo, nestled by either thigh. 

"He's... Not what I expected." Trevor confessed, joining Ian and the cats on the couch. He started stroking Tony. 

"What did you expect?" 

"He's nice. Gentle. I don't know." Trevor stopped himself before he could say he actually _liked_ the guy. Their conversation with Carl, despite it mostly consisting of Mickey's so called _glory days_ or Carl's obvious fanboy crush on Mickey, was rather pleasant. 

He even felt comfortable opening up himself. 

"I told him I'm trans." 

That made Ian turn his head and look at Trevor. "Did he, what did he say?" 

Trevor shrugged. "He said " _I ain't sleeping with you so I don't care what's in your pants_." I don't know how to feel about it, I-I guess I just expected someone like him to be a complete ass about it." 

Ian sighed. "Someone like him?" 

"You know what I mean." Trevor said. He then turned his body to face Ian. "Ian." 

"Yeah?" 

"I heard a lot of stuff. He and Carl told me a lot of stuff. About you, about both of youー he did a lot of things for you that never even occurred to me that had to be done for you. He did so much for you that I don't think I'd ever..." Trevor sighed, clearly struggling here with the comparison of himself to Mickey. 

Ian placed a comforting hand on Trevor's thigh as the brunet continued, "But Ian, I'm not a comparison. I'm not him, and he's not me and like you said, you can't compare us. And you chose me." 

For a moment, Ian was confused as to why Trevor was so insecure: why Trevor acted that Ian was going to change his mind or something.

But it didn't matterー he was right. 

"I did choose you." Ian assured. "And I'm here with you, not him. You have me, I promise." He leaned in and kissed his boyfriend. 

The cats had long gone off the couch by the time they undressed each other, with Trevor prepping himself and pulling Ian on top of him.

Once Trevor sheathed himself inside Ian, Ian let out a sweet sigh against Trevor's lips. 

"I wanna ask you something," Ian said breathily as Trevor rocked himself in and out of him.


	16. Chapter 16

The moment Mickey stepped through the threshold of his apartment, two sets of expectant eyes laid on him. 

He stared at Svetlana then at Yevgeny, and both seemed to have held their breaths, waiting for Mickey to say something.

He knew what they were asking; they (more like Yev) have been asking for a few weeks now. And as the days drew closer to Christmas, it was inevitable that the kid would want this small essential _thing_. 

Except, it wasn't small and Mickey did not deem it essential. 

Where, in the slowly growing claustrophobic studio, were they going to fit a fucking _Christmas tree?_

Absolutely nowhere. 

And so Mickey opened his mouth, saying the same answer he's been saying since it's been asked, "No." 

Svetlana clicked her tongue just as Yevgeny whined, "Oh, _please_ , dad! _Please!_ " 

The kid ran up to Mickey, trying to wrap his arms around him but Mickey stepped away. "I stink. I _just_ got back from work, I'm tired as fuck." Mickey said, offering a small ruffle to Yevgeny's hair. 

Mickey then proceeded to unbuckle his overalls, letting the straps fall down his waist before shedding his oil and grease stained shirt. Svetlana took the shirt off his hands, throwing it into the hamper by the kitchen, following Mickey who headed towards the bathroom. 

"You shower then we go." Svetlana said, jamming herself by the bathroom door. Mickey huffed out in annoyance. 

"I said no." Mickey repeated, giving Svetlana a look that said _fuck outta my way_. 

She did not budge. "Is close to Christmas." 

"Yeah and I got shit already," Mickey said in a more hushed voice. "We don't need a damn tree." 

"How about small one?" She offered. 

"How small?" 

"Your height." 

"Fuck off." Mickey sighed, pushing past her and into the bathroom. Svetlana crossed her arms and glared at him. "You gonna let me shower cause I ain't about to give you a show." 

"I make room for tree," she said. Mickey rolled his eyes. 

"No, you've milked that excuse _way_ past its expiry dateー the only way we have room is if you get rid of the couch and table and literally _every fucking thing in here._ "

"Then we put it on roof deck." 

Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, "The fuck kind of purpose would that serve; we'll barely see the damn thing?"

He wasn't sure why he kept fighting with her on this; normally after a few days (and in some cases, a few minutes), he'd cave in because he'll realise it's not actually a problem if Svetlana and Yevgeny got their way every once in a while. 

Mickey was often indifferent to whatever they wanted. It didn't bother him, like how them celebrating Thanksgiving didn't bother him. 

A part of him wanted to believe he wanted to reinstate some sort of patriarchy to this small household when actually, he knew what the real reason wasー 

He gave Svetlana and Yevgeny whatever they wanted because he had Ian. 

Someone _he's_ always wanted. 

And Ian was his go-to-guy when things got stressful here or whenever he just wanted someone to hang with. 

He was happy, and if conceding to whatever the fuck they wanted made them happy, so be it. 

It sounded a little superficial; buying certain things or doing certain things to keep them happy, but if that's what it took, then Mickey was good enough to oblige. 

Who was he to judge what kept someone happy? 

And Mickey was just that, with the prospect of at least now still having Ian in his life despite them just being friends. 

Mickey was content. 

Except now, it's been a few weeks since they've spoken or heard from each other. 

Let alone seen each other. 

But even though Mickey didn't _do_ friends, he knew that it was probably just normal. 

 _Don't act so fucking clingy,_ he reminded himself as the days past by and soon turn into weeks. And pride didn't let him pick up the phone and call or text Ian first. 

He thought of  _space_ , and the whole concept of clinginess; he should just let it sit. If Ian wanted to hang, they can hang. 

But the lack of messages indicated anything but that. 

Mickey couldn't help but feel disheartened about that, but he had no other friends in the past to compare if this was normal or not. 

And eventually, it just became a distant memory; the concept of them actually being friends. 

He was aware of it, but that didn't mean he couldn't get grumpy about it. 

After abruptly slamming the door in Svetlana's face once he'd had enough of her going on and on about the damn fucking tree, Mickey got into the shower. 

He attempted to wash away the stress and tiredness from work and being restless and staying up all night wondering if Ian would call. 

Stupid. 

He felt so fucking stupid. 

And after getting out of the shower and towelling himself dry, he decided he should just _chill_. 

It had been a long week, longer than the other weeks before, and his issues with Ian shouldn't affect his relationships with his wife and kid.

It's not fair. 

It sure did take a damn while for him to realise it this time, but as he emerged from the shower and promptly apologised to them both, he decided that that was going to be the last time he let Ian Gallagher mess with his mind. 

"Let's go get that fuckin' tree." 

*

The mall. 

The _fucking_ mall. 

Yevgeny wanted a real treeー Mickey wanted a cheap one. Svetlana just wanted to reach into Mickey's pocket and pinch his paycheck in the name of last minute shopping. 

The adults won majority votesー and Svetlana couldn't really buy anything at a tree yard other than treesー the one thing they actually set out to buyー but Mickey fancied the idea of a cheap, plastic tree, so the mall it was.

And they could reuse it the next year, he supposed. 

The next year. 

The thought of this possibly being an annual thing kind of excited him. 

He'd never admit it, of course. 

"Isn't there a store where we can just buy all the shit in?" Mickey asked, his feet aching as they reached their second hour in this swarming Friday night at the mall. 

They hit the food court for their dinner, then Svetlana wanted to look at clothes, then Yevgeny kept getting distracted at all the bright lights advertising toys for Christmas. 

Mickey felt like they were milking his so called _kindness_ , but he kept reminding himself that he was okay with this. 

He was. But he was also very tired. 

"We go to Target. Should be cheap." Svetlana finally said, deciding that she wasn't going to overstay her welcome on Mickey. 

"Finally," Mickey muttered under his breath as she lead her boys to the store. 

*

Mickey was in heaven. 

There was a bench right out in front of Target, and using the " _let me hold your shit while you two go pick out a tree and whatever_ " excuse, he sat on the bench. 

The relief he felt when his feet stopped carrying his weight was almost orgasmic. They were throbbing and his calves were straining, but this seat was good enough for him for now. The only thing that can make this better was a cigarette. 

He was going smoke his lungs out on the roof deck once they got home, if he's not passed out by then. 

Maybe have a beer or two just because he felt like he earned it. 

And even though he didn't want to be one of _those_ guys who fell asleep whilst their partner or kids or whatever shopped with the energy he didn't understand why they still had, Mickey felt himself nodding off. 

He caught himself before his eyes would close completely until a reason to keep them open presented itself before him. 

Carl Gallagher was approaching, seemingly out of nowhere. 

But it wasn't like he was looking for anyone he'd recognise. 

"Hey, Mickey." Carl greeted casually, standing in front of Mickey. 

"Hey, Carl." Mickey parroted. "What are you doing here?" 

"Was about to ask you the same thing." He said, taking the seat next to Mick. "You into _Victoria's Secret?_ " 

"Huh?" Mickey cocked his head to the side in confusion.

Carl laughed, nodding at the bags by Mickey's feet. "Guessing that's not yours?" Mickey looked down and noticed what Carl meant. 

He gestured at Target, "I don't fuckin' know, man. Svetlana's perfume shit or something." He didn't even know that Victoria's Secret sold anything other than lingerie. Not that he cared enough to look deeper into it. 

Calf nodded. "You with her and Yevgeny?" 

"Yeah." Mickey said. "They're getting a tree." 

"Hmm, yeah." Carl hummed. "I'm with Debs and Franny and Neil. They're somewhere here, I don't know." He gestured around randomly. 

"The husband guy?" Mickey vaguely recalled. Carl nodded again. "How'd that happen?" 

The younger male shrugged. "Long story. But he's nice, I guess. He's in a wheelchair." 

"Oh." 

"Accident left him bounded and also brain fucked or something; he can't lie, so he says pretty shitty stuff sometimes." Carl nonchalantly informed. 

"No shit." Mickey commented, slightly amazed. "He at least good to Debbie?"

Carl smiled. "Yeah, man. Treats Franny like his own daughter, too. Doesn't do wrong by them both. You can't really complain, except for his hard truths." 

"Doesn't sound too bad not being able to lie." Mickey said. Carl shrugged. 

"Can get into a whole heap of shit." He said. "So, what's up with you?" 

"Huh?" Mickey was a little caught off guard by that, but nonetheless, he answered. "Nothing much. Work and stuff, I guess. Not much has happened since I last saw you." 

"Okay." Carl acknowledged. "So not hanging with your new best friend?" 

"Ian?" Mickey asked. 

"Trevor." Carl sheepishly corrected. 

"Oh." Mickey sighed. "Um, no. Thatー I don't know what the fuck that was. I think it would be weird if it was just me and him hanging. Thinking back now, I'm glad you were there." 

"Really?" Carl perked up in excitement.

Mickey didn't notice. "Yeah, man. I probably wouldn't have felt as comfortable as I did if you weren't with us. Known you since you were a little brat. You're like a little brother to me." 

"Oh." The Gallagher slightly slumped. "So, you and Ian aren't fucking around anymore?" 

If Mickey was drinking right then, he would've choked. "Uh... No." He shook his head, unsure of why he was answering. "Haven't seen him  since that last time at Lip's. And we're just... friends now, so," 

Carl hummed. 

"How... is he?" Mickey asked. Carl looked at the older man with an undecipherable expression. 

"Friends, huh?" Carl said. 

"What?" 

Carl shrugged. "You're friends but you don't even know how he is? That's a little weird." 

Mickey knew that it was too, but he wasn't about to explain that he didn't know if friends not catching up for weeks at a time was normal. 

"Yeah, well I'm asking you." He settled on saying. 

"Are you still in love with him?" Carl asked and Mickey, again, was thrown. Where were these questions coming from? 

It was either Carl was so invested in his relations with Ian or that he was social media stalking his crush, except in real life. 

Mickey immediately discarded the latter thought, clearly reaching, but as his mind swarmed with those thoughts, Carl took Mickey's silence for hesitance. 

"I think you're wasting your time." Carl said, leaning back against the bench. 

"'Scuse me?" 

"With Ian." He clarified. "You guys were something, then nothing, then almost something now just friends who don't even know how each other's doing." 

"Carl, I don't think it's your fuckin' place toー" 

"You don't even know that he's getting married," Carl interrupted before proceeding to ramble on. 

But whatever the Gallagher was saying did not register properly in his mind. 

Ian was getting married?

Since when?

*

Ian was in the bathroom when he heard someone knock rather loudly on the front door.

He spat out the toothpaste into the sink before shouting, "Is that you, Trev?"

Was it Trevor?

He just left a couple minutes agoー must've forgotten something.

But Ian received no answer.

Just another set of persistent knocks.

Sighing, he quickly rinsed his mouth, wiping it dry with the bottom of his shirt as he made his way to the front door.

He opened it, saying, "You forget your keys, numb... nuts..."

It wasn't Trevor.

It was Mickey.

"Mick." Ian breathed out before the air got knocked out of him as Mickey shoved his palms against Ian's chest. "What the fuck!"

"I should be the one fuckin' saying that, you shithead!" Mickey growled and Ian was confused.

He wasn't oblivious to the fact that Mickey was mad at what he assumed he was mad forー but what Ian was confused at was _why_.

 _Why_ was Mickey mad?

"Friends, huh?" Mickey exasperated, lips curling in rage. "You know, I've never done this shit before. You know, the whole _friends_ thing. Not with you. Not with any fuckin' one. And we haven't seen or talked to each other in weeks."

"Mickey," Ian tried, but the brunet wasn't having any of it.

He continued, "But we're friends, right? So I think, okay, we don't have to be around each other twenty-four fuckin' seven likeー like we're a couple or some shit. And I think it's just natural we have time apartー like fuck if I know how this shit works."

Mickey then stepped closer to Ian with his presence commanding fear. And in a low growl, he said, "But what I'm _pretty fucking clear_ on is that friends tell their friends when they're getting fuckin' _married_."

And there it was.

The dreaded truth.

Ian had convinced himself that it wasn't a secret; that him getting married wasn't such a big deal. He had told his family; that much was a given. But he believed telling Mickey was just something he did not feel obliged to do.

He wasn't dating Mickey.

Mickey had nothing to do with his life plans.

So why was his chest hurting?

"Who told you?" Ian asked, finding it hard to look back at Mickey.

Mickey shook his head disbelievingly, "Carl."

"Carl?" The redhead repeated, wondering how the fuck that happened. "You guys... You talk?"

Mickey laughed, "Yeah. Yeah we talk. Even better, we hang out, cause you know, that's what _friends fuckin' do._ Or did you forget that you and me are friends?" He gestured between them mockingly.

The throbbing in Ian's chest heightened as he clenched his teeth.

The weeks apart from Mickey had been a blessing in disguise. It was so easy to fall back into the life he had before Mickey got released. It was so easy to just go on living with Trevor, going on dates with him and talk about the wedding without his heart somewhere else.

It was so easy to forget that Mickey mattered, and that it was just like that time again in jail eight years ago.

Ian sighed. "I've moved on, Mick."

"From what?" Mickey asked incredulously. "What's there to move on from?"

"You should go." Ian said, walking past Mickey towards the front door.

Just as he wrapped his fingers around the handle, Mickey spoke, "Please tell me you're not marrying him to get back at me."

The hurt tone in his voice made Ian turn around. "Why would this be about you?" He asked, matching the quiet.

"Because you didn't tell me." Mickey almost whispered. His eyebrows drawn together, he looked directly at Ian with hesitance. "Can you look me in the eye and honestly tell me you're marrying him for him and not to hurt me?"

"Are you hurt?"

Mickey laughed sadly. "Yeah." He confessed. "I am. Why are you marrying him?"

Ian ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why not?" He asked rhetorically. "We've been together for years, Mick. Spent almost our entire twenties together. And it's time. It's only natural we take this step in our relationship. There's no one else I can see spending the rest of my life with."

And it pained him to say thatー as much as it was true, it killed Ian to say those words to him.

He wanted to say those words to Mickey.

But not like this.

Not in this context.

And the look of utter defeat that Mickey wore on his face...

Ian couldn't bear to witness it.

But Mickey just inhaled and exhaled deeply. "You're a fuckin' liar." He declared. "This ain't got nothing to to with you two being together for so long. This ain't about time."

"Oh, it's not?" Ian challenged.

"It's about me being out. Me being here. Right now, right in front of you." Mickey said. "And it's about you being a fuckin' idiot marrying him _now_ of all fuckin' times now that I'm here because,"

"Because what, huh?"

"Because!" Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because... I know it's me you wanna marry. And you can't. But I know it's me you really wanna be with."

Ian threw his hands up in the air, "God fucking damn it, Mick, of course it's you!" He shouted. He then pointed at Mickey accusingly, stalking forward. "It's always gonna be you! I'm always gonna love you, and nothing will ever fuckin' change that!"

He let out an exhausted sigh, trying to compose himself. He closed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. "But I am not your number one anymore. I'm not your everything. And it's all my fault, I know that. It's because I couldn't wait. It was too hard for me to wait." He stated, shrugging.

Mickey clenched his teeth, letting Ian continue. "I didn't want to see you again after that time because the thought of visiting the guy I love through a glass wall for the next fifteen years was going to be my life scared me."

"Ian." Mickey breathed out, almost reaching out for him.

"I've seen you move on." Ian prompted. "Now it's time for me to finally do the same. I thought I did. I really thought I did. But it wasn't until I saw you again, and realise that you were fine without meー I can finally move on. Marrying Trevor is just the next step. It makes sense."

And then Ian smiled, briefly touching Mickey's cheek. "I refuse to let myself be hung over you now that you're over me."

"Who says I'm over you?" Mickey asked, unable to proceed everything clearly.

"You just want to be friends," Ian reminded.

"Ian, I want you to still be in my _life_." Mickey corrected. "We can't be together, not right now, so I thought... If friendsー"

"I don't wanna be your friend, Mickey." Ian confessed.

Mickey's eyebrows drew together in confusion, "But you said..."

"I know what I said." Ian assured, shrugging. "But I just can't do it. I can't." He took Mick's hand in his and said, "If I'm not your boyfriend... Or your _husbandー_ I don't want to be anything else to you. Not a friend. Not even an acquaintance. I wanna be nothing to you like you were nothing to me."

Mickey took his hand back.

Ian wasn't going to bother hiding how much that hurt. "I'm sorry, Mick." He apologised. "If I'm not wth you I don't want you in my life anymore. I'm gonna marry Trevor. I'm gonna start a family with him in a nice neighbourhood and in a nice house. And we're gonna grow old together. Have grandkids. The white picket fence bullshit that I've always wanted."

"With him?" Mickey asked.

"With you." Ian said.

Mickey sighed, shoulders slumping in utter defeat. "Marriage is just a piece of paper." And this was his final feat before he truly gave up on Ian.

It was weak.

Mickey felt weak.

He wished Ian never came to see him that day at the mechanics.

If it was all just for this to happenー

Mickey felt like he could've just lived with the Ian in his memories.

Ian shrugged. "To you, maybe." And Mickey was so naive to believe that Ian changed his mind on marriage and what it meant. Of course Ian didn't think the same way he did.

Mickey laughed pathetically. "No, it definitely is." He said before looking at Ian directly in the eye. "And you don't need the fuckin' law to let someone know you love them."

For a moment, they stared at each other; the soft breathing, the cars bustling outsideー the world moving on beyond these four wallsー they grew lost in their surroundings.

With only each other in sight.

And then like the day Mickey got married, they both lunged forward, crashing their lips together in a searing and desperate kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth; the slopping sounds of their kiss now filling the room. The soft breathing was immediately replaced with harsh pants and the world outside was but a blip in their minds.

Collapsing right onto the floor with Ian towering over Mick, both struggled to remove their clothes; they worked on getting one of Mickey's legs out of his jeans before Mickey's fingers swiftly untied Ian's sweats.

And in a flash, Ian buried himself deep inside.

Mickey let out a strangled moan, tensing hard against the burning intrusion as Ian held tightly onto Mickey, gasping out a litany of swears against his ear.

Soon, after catching a breath, Ian began to move roughly, fucking Mickey into the floorboards.

Mickey clawed his fingers into Ian's back, feeling the strain against his shoulder blades as they rubbed into the hard floor. His hips were lifted; back bent upwards as Ian held onto his thighs, spreading them as far as they could go.

The sting was unbearable; Ian was hot, thick and dry inside him, but he didn't want him to stop. He felt like it would be worse if Ian stopped. And biting his lower lip until blood drew out only added to the pain.

But damn it all if it wasn't their style.

Tears welled up in Mickey's eyes as he caressed the back of Ian's head, revelling silently in the younger male's moans.

And eventually, he felt it.

Eventually, he felt the pleasure.

And Mickey's grunts of discomfort turned into moans of encouragement.

"Fuck," he breathed out, shooting a hand down to wrap around his own dick. He began stroking himself at the brutally fast past Ian set as his eyes rolled back in his head. "Oh, fuck, Ian."

"Oh God." Ian sighed, pressing his forehead against Mickey's. "Mickey. Mickey, Mickey, Mickey."

"I'mー _shitー_ I'm here." Mickey sighed. "I'm..."

"Mickey,"

"Ian." Mickey gasped. "Ian, stop,"

"Mickey."

" _Stop_."

"Mickー"

Mickey opened his eyes and placed both hands on Ian's face, cupping his cheeks. He looked at the redhead with a grimace at the sight. His thumbs then began to wipe at the wetness as he whispered, "Stop crying, Ian."

Ian continued to pound harshly into Mickey, eyes shut tight as if to prevent the tears from falling.

But then it became too much.

Ian slowed his thrusts, crying openly against Mickey. And through a raw and trembling voice, Ian confessed. "I wish it wasn't _you_. I wish it wasn't _you_ who got locked up. I wish it wasn't _you_ I discovered my disease with. I wish it wasn't _you_ I had to force myself to get over. I wish it wasn't _you_ I fell in love with."

Mickey struggled to form a coherent thought as Ian hit that good spot right inside him. All he could do was stroke and scratch the back of Ian's head, letting out small moans with every surge of pleasure that wracked through his body.

"Why did it have to be you?" Ian asked, rubbing his nose against Mickey's. "Why Mickey? Why was it you? Why's it always you?"

"Ian...!"

Ian continued, "I wish it was you I was spending the rest of my life with. I wished marriage meant a lot to you as much as it means to me." He sobbed, tightening his grip around Mickey's thighs.

" _Ian_ , I'mー"

"It's forever, Mick. It means forever." Ian said. "Marriage means until death do us part. And it means I love you. I love you, Mick. I love you!"

"I loveー I love you, too!" Mickey choked out, his hands grabbing onto Ian for purchase.

Ian finally opened his wet eyes, looking straight at Mickey. "And that means we take care of each other. Thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness and health. You remember that, Mick? You remember what you said to me?"

Mickey nodded furiously, his toes curling in his shoes as he came hard with a strangled moan. And the walls tightening around Ian so abruptly caused him also to fall undone; his come squirting out in hot spurts right inside of Mickey.

And as the energy in them escaped them both, the lovers fell pliant against the floor; limbs weak and shaking.

Ian buried his face in the nook of Mickey's neck as he continued to sob; Mickey could only soothe him gently, whispering sweet nothings.

*

"I'm sorry." Ian apologised as he planted a soft kiss against Mickey's chest, right next to his name. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Mickey said, burying half of his face into the pillow as Ian had three fingers deep inside him. "I'm okay."

Naked and now in the bedroom, Ian proceeded to open Mickey up more properly, more carefully and with a generous amount of lube.

Ian damn near died at the sight of what he did to Mickey. And although Mickey insisted he was fine, Ian needed to do this.

He needed to soothe the hurt.

Even if it's only just physically.

Mickey was soft around his fingers, opening up nicely as the brunet arched his hips off the bed at the pleasurable sensation. Mickey had his eyes closed shut as his hands fisted the sheets.

His cheeks were red. His mouth was agape. His chest heaved in breaths. He squirmed underneath Ian's touch.

And he couldn't stop moaning.

Ian pressed another kiss against Mickey's tattoo, slowly kissing up his neck and jaw until finally their lips met again.

This time, they kissed slower, more lips, tentative tongues, all in love.

"You good now?" Ian asked, removing his fingers before wiping them on the sheets. Mickey nodded.

"Been good for a while." He said with a lazy smile, licking his lips. Ian chuckled lightly.

"Let me go put on a condom." Ian said but Mickey prevented him from moving by wrapping his legs around his waist. "Hm?"

Mickey shrugged a shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it. You already came inside me." He said. "Besides, I like feeling all of you. I like it raw."

"Mickey." Ian whined, becoming impossibly more turned on.

"Unless you don't wanna... But I'm clean." Mickey said. "And I've only been with you since... But then again, Trevー"

"We don't use them." Ian said. He then rolled his eyes at how obvious it sounded. "I mean, cause you know, can't get an STD from a silicon cock and all."

Mickey rose a brow. "Huh. You let him fuck you, Gallagher?" He asked in a teasing tone.

"Shut up." Ian said shyly.

"How's that?" Mickey inquired, clearly not wanting this new piece of information slip, even if it may ruin the mood.

"It's good." Ian confessed. "But not as good as doing the fucking." He made a point of rubbing his dick against Mickey's hole.

"Guess I wouldn't really know, huh?"

"Oh, why, you thinkin' of topping me?" Ian asked challengingly.

Mickey shrugged lackadaisically. "Nah." He said. He then wrapped both hands over Ian's shoulders. "But I'd rather _be on top_ of you."

"Oh?" Ian said, blatantly fancying the idea of Mickey Milkovich riding him. "Then why don't you get off your ass and get to it?"

"You're going down, Army." Mickey smirked, switching their positions.

*

Tangled in the sheets with their bodies intertwined, Ian and Mickey couldn't help but get lost in the details of each other.

Mickey stroked back Ian's hair as Ian studied the blue in Mickey's eyesー so deep and so pure. And for a good portion of half an hour, they were just content with lying there in the comfort of each other's presence.

However, Mickey was the first to break the silence. "You really gonna marry him, huh?"

It was only inevitable that they'd come back to this.

Ian nodded just once, so barely there. "Yeah."

Mickey nodded as well as if to register Ian's answer before saying, "And we really can't be together not even as friends, right?"

"I've already hurt him a lot."

"He's so much better than me that you can't leave him." Mickey deduced.

"He helped me a lot. He helped me get over you. And I fell in love. I forgot about you." Ian explained.

"And now you're all over me again." Mickey laughed quietly.

Ian shook his head. "There's just something about you Mickey Milkovich. The things you do to me. I don't know what kind of hold you have over me, but you do."

"So I'm just the one that got away, huh?"

Ian sighed, cupping Mickey's cheek. "Mickey. I forgot, okay? I forgot how much time has passed; I forgot that you're not the same person anymore." He said. "I forgot that I did some shitty things to you. I just forgot. And we picked up like nothing happened. And I was stupid to believe we could just go back to the way we were. We can't."

Mickey nodded in agreement as Ian continued. "I've got priorities. You do too. And it's not each other. Not anymore."

"So this is it." Mickey concluded. "Not even friends."

Ian grimaced. "Will you be okay being my friend now that you know I'm getting married?"

Mickey looked as if he was in deep thought, truly contemplating his answer before reluctantly nodding. "We can... try... the friends thing again. If you want."

"Okay." Ian nodded also. "We can try."

"So that means no more sex, right?" Mickey asked sarcastically and Ian laughed.

"We're not that kind of friends." Ian said. "You gonna stay?"

"No." Mickey answered.

"Can you at least stay till I fall asleep then?" Ian asked. He had just gotten back from a late shift before Mickey arrived. Somehow, Mickey knew that and he nodded.

"Okay." He said and like clockwork, Ian tucked his head against Mickey's chest as Mickey caressed Ian's hair, soothing the younger male to sleep.

*

It wasn't until Mickey woke up that he realised he had fallen asleep in the first place. They drifted a little in their slumber but were still relatively close. And Ian was still in a deep sleep.

Carefully, Mickey extracted himself out of bed and headed into the ensuite, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Immediately, he turned on the shower before sitting on the toilet.

He began to cry just a little, feeling all things _Ian_ slowly dripping out of him.

"Fuck." He sighed out frustratedly, rubbing the heel of his palm against the bridge of his nose before composing himself and getting into the shower.

Once he was clean and towelled off dry, he went out to fetch his clothes, promptly dressing himself up down to the secured laces of his shoes.

A part of him, as he stared at the front door of the apartment, just wanted to leave. Just go. Ian knew he wasn't going to stay, so it was only natural if he just left.

But the other part of him wanted to at least say something to Ian before he did.

He walked back into the bedroom.

Ian was still asleep as Mickey went to sit by his side. He placed his hand on Ian's head, caressing his hair gently. He then bent down to plant a small kiss on Ian's temple.

"Congratulations on getting engaged, Ian." Mickey whispered, smiling sadly. "I'm happy for you."

And with that, Mickey could finally leave the apartment.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An... update?

"You got everything?" Mickey asked, checking his own pockets for his keys, phone and wallet. 

Svetlana rolled her eyes, looking a little impatient. And as if to exemplify her stress, a loud car horn from outside was heard. "Yes, yes. Let's go. Your sister is waiting." 

"I know, I  _know_." Mickey groaned. "But we're not driving back here just because you forgot Yev'sー" 

"One time, Mickey. One time." She held Yevgeny's hand, tugging the kid towards the front door that Mickey stood by. 

"This was literally last week. You fucking cost us two hours on our trip," Mickey said, eyebrows raised. "Fuck all if you're gonna make Mandyー" 

"Okay, okay, is over. I got everything, let's go." She urged. "It's cold." 

Another car horn. Mickey sighed, opening the door, letting Svetlana and Yevgeny out before following them with the door locking securely behind. 

Christmas had ended.

The three of them spent it at Mandy's apartment up in Northside. It was more lively there, despite it just being Mandy and her roommate there. A lot more warmer than their shitty studio, and bigger too, and Mandy wanted to have a real Christmas with her family for once. 

She may have uncharacteristically got emotional when Mickey actually showed up. 

Milkovichs never showed emotion to other Milkovichs. 

But like it was for Mickey, it was also a very lonely eight years for the youngest Milkovich. 

Sure, she had other brothers, and she sent them money every month, albeit anonymously. But it was Mickey she missed the most. 

Mickey, the only brother she bothered visiting when he landed his ass in juvie. 

Mickey, the only brother who took the initiative to hunt down the boys who messed with her. 

Mickey, the only brother that cared for her as much as she cared for him.

Even though these celebrations never meant much in their home, and for the past eight years despite her finally letting herself celebrate it, it wasn't until her big brother Mick was back did she finally feel like it was right. 

It was only right now for them to do this too. 

It was New Years Eve. 

She wanted to celebrate a New Year now that life felt just a little more better than before. 

* 

"So are we still game for tonight?" Mandy asked, sitting by the kitchen island. Mickey sat across from her, idly shuffling a deck of cards while the shrill noise of Yevgeny laughing and playing with Mandy's dog sat in the back of his mind. 

"Why you asking questions to things you already know?" He answered, unenthusiastic. He felt her smile on him.

"Just making sure. Don't want you backing out on me. It's New Year's." 

"Eve." 

"Whatever, it'll be New Years when when we're still out." She said, taking a sip from her beer. "Hit up the clubs. Have a fun night partying." 

"I'm too old for that shit," He reminded, grabbing some chips out of its packet. Mandy hummed. 

It was clear what she was trying to do here. Maybe ten years ago, he wouldn't appreciate it. Even now, he's not sure how he feelsー the prospect of maybe finding someone new. 

Someone that wasn't Ian that he could maybe fall in love with. 

Maybe sleep around here and there, but even then, he's grown into an age where he's just not looking for that. 

He was thirty years old. 

The good years of his life that he could've done all that shit was now gone. 

And it wasn't even his age posed a problem; it was also the fact that he was _married_ and with a _kid._

Who would wanna be with someone, from an outsider's point of view, with a fucked up situation? 

And it would be fucked up because damn it all if he could explain how this even came about. 

Who would understand this? 

Who would accept dating someone who got raped as a teenager, forced to marry his rapist that was with his child, who then got divorced because the said wife was about to get deported and was unable to get a visa while he served time for attempted murder? 

And that was only the first half of the story. 

Mickey doubt anyone would even last that long with him for him to open up about that. 

It was the fact that these things were something that he  _experienced_ with Ian, that he went through with that made Mickey believe that _yes_ , there really wasn't anyone else out there for him _but_ Ian.

Ian was there since the start just as he was there with Ian when he was diagnosed with his disorder. 

They were just  _there_ for each other. 

They just understood. 

And that was a part of the reason why Mickey was so reluctant to go out with Mandy; no one else would get him like Ian did. 

There was no one else but him. 

No one he could see himself with. 

Ian or no one. 

But he supposed it couldn't hurt to try. 

For now, he was trying for Mandy. By just going out with her, he was trying. It was a small step and he wasn't going to look for a quick fuck (like Mandy insinuated she wanted for her brother), but this was a big deal for himー just going out. And maybe after tonight, he would start trying for himself.

Maybe.  

"Well  _I'm_ still in my twenties." Mandy said and Mickey scoffed. 

"Barely." 

" _Still in my twenties_ ," She insisted. 

"Late twenties, bitch," 

"So _I'm_ going to have some fun." She finished. "And so should you." 

"Not my kind of idea of fun." Mickey shrugged, taking a sip of his own beer. 

"What, playing video games till the crack of dawn before shoving your hand down your pants, rubbing one out to those late night infomercials?" Mandy questioned. "That your idea of fun?" 

"Hmm, you know it." He hummed sarcastically. "I already said I'd go. Don't make me change my fuckin' mind."

"Well you better not change your fucking mind." She quipped before turning her attention to her nephew. "Hey, Yev? Wanna play some board games?" 

*

It took a long time for time to pass. It wasn't until it reached seven p.m. did it really feel close to a New Year. 

From outside of Mandy's apartment, they could hear the young crowd strolling the streets, excited for the festivities the Noethside offered. 

But before then, the four of them passed time playing an array of board games that Mandy had seemingly hoarded over the years. Many were still in its packaging. 

She had said, " _Our cupboards growing up had so many weapons and illegal shit, and not a single game board. So, whenever I passed a store that sold one, I just felt like buying one. Most were mulitplayer, obviously, but I knew one day I'd get to play these games._ " 

They missed their opportunity to play these games on Christmas since Svetlana set back their trip a few hours. 

Mickey insisted the kid could survive one night without his pajamas, but he inevitably lost that argument. 

So by the time they reached Mandy's, it was late; all they could do was have dinner, open presents and relax, watching TV and eventually dozing off. 

This time though, from the hour they got to Mandy's place, until now, they indulged in various Hasbro's and card games, most Mickey had never even heard of and Svetlana needing to be explained the rules. 

Then there was a snack run Mandy and Yevgeny made to the local 7/11 before Svetlana and Mickey cooked lunch. 

Mandy's roommate came home around three p.m. from her parents placeー more games ensuedー before she left to spend the evening with her boyfriend. 

Dinner consisted of take out and left over lunch and soon, it was seven. That's when Mandy decided to have a shower and get all dressed up for her and Mick's night out.

Mickey was forced to do the same. 

"I can dress myself," Mickey said as soon as he saw Svetlana in the guest room sorting clothes. He didn't even remember packing them. 

"Okay." Svetlana hummed. She continued to arrange his clothes however. 

"You mind getting out?" Mickey asked after a beat. He was clad in only a towel. 

"You spray this, wear this, this and this, and I put your shoes in the other bag, is outside." Svetlana said, pointing at each article of clothing and gesturing at a glass bottle of perfume. 

"What are you, my fucking mother?" Mickey groaned. "Get outta here," He moved to stand at the foot of the bed where Svetlana was. 

She turned to look at him. "You wash nicely?" 

"Oh my fuckingー get out, okay? Look after Yev." Mickey pointed at the bedroom door and Svetlana laughed, finally complying and leaving the room. 

Once the door shut close, he sighed deeply, looking at what Svetlana laid out for him. 

It was what he would've wore anyway. 

Probably.

*

"Oh? Look at you." Svetlana cooed as soon as Mickey emerged from the room. 

Dressed in a dark grey long sleeved henly, black, faded jeans, a lighter grey hoodie and a khaki bomber jacket on top, Mickey felt a little ridiculous. 

Like an old man dressed as a young kid. 

At least, that's what it felt like. 

Didn't look like it, though. 

And when Mickey approached Yevgeny, passing Svetlana, Svetlana hummed approvingly. 

"You smell good, too." She said. "Shoes are over there." 

"Yeah, I see them." Mickey said, sitting next to Yevgeny on the couch after grabbing the Timberlands. 

"You're not staying with us, dad?" Yev asked after tearing his eyes away from the TV. Mickey ran his fingers through Yevgeny's blond locks. 

"Sorry, kid." Mickey said. "I promised your aunt Mandy that I'd celebrate the New Year with her this year. But next year, promise I'll spend it with you." 

"And mama?" 

Mickey shot a glance at Svetlana. "Yeah." 

Svetlana shrugged. "If your dad is not in prison again by then." 

Mickey flipped her off. "Where's Mandy?" 

"Still getting ready." Svetlana informed, pointing at Mandy's bedroom door. 

"Aye, Mandy!" Mickey called out. "We going or not?" 

"Eager much?" Mandy shouted back. Mickey rolled his eyes as Svetlana joined Mickey on the couch. 

She started fiddling with Mickey's jacket, fixing it here and there. "You look good."

"Stop. You're being fuckin' weird." Mickey moved a little bit away. But Svetlana just moved closer. 

"You have fun, yes? You find a good boyfriend." 

"Jesus, no, this isn'tー" 

"Or a fuck, it doesn't matter." Svetlana said. "Is a New Year, you move on now." 

"Move on from what?" 

She rose her eyebrows. "From Ian." 

Mickey searched her eyes, trying to figure out her angle. "Already did that." 

"You sure?" Svetlana asked, rather rhetorically but before Mickey could retort, Mandy emerged from her bedroom. 

"Let's go!" She shouted, excitedly. 

"Wao!" Svetlana shouted just as excitedly. "You look very nice." 

"Why, thank you." Mandy did a little curtsy. A nice, flowy, nude coloured dress with matching heels that weren't too long but just long enough to make her calves pop, Mandy looked rather, well, _nice_. 

Her blonde hair was up in a neat bun with loose curls, her make-up light and modest. 

Who was she? 

Mickey felt a little sad that his little sister changed a lotー but changed for the better. He wish he could've seen the transformation, though.

"Oh, lookie here." She teased, giving her brother the once over. Mickey stood up. 

"You wearing a jacket or something?" He asked, suddenly feeling like an actual older brother caring for his little sister. Sure, she dressed modestly, but even he knew that won't stop hands.

Mandy was taken back. "We'll be in the clubs, Mick. Relax. It's all good." She said, waving her hand that held her purse. "Your pockets big enough for this?" 

Mickey rolled his eyes, taking her purse and shoving it in his back pocket. 

"You two have fun, okay!" Svetlana said, fetching herself a beer from the fridge. "Happy New Year." 

Mickey bent down to kiss the top of Yevgeny's head. "Happy New Year, kid." 

Yevgeny smiled. "You too, dad." 

"Aw." Mandy cooed, coming around to kiss Yevgeny's cheek. "Happy New Year." 

"Happy New Year, aunty!" 

"Okay, we'll be off now." Mandy said, heading towards the front door. Mickey followed behind but not before Svetlana shuffled across the apartment over to them in a hurried fashion.

"Happy New Year, sister-in-law." Svetlana said, kissing Mandy's cheek. She then turned to Mickey, kissing him smack on the lips. "And Happy New Year to you, husband." 

Mickey coughed a little, feeling awkward. "Uh, yeah. Um, you too, Svetlana." 

Mandy smiled, putting her hand on the door handle as Svetlana took a swig of her beer. "Okay you two have fun, stay safe and I see you next year." 

"Ugh, lame!" Mandy laughed, opening the door. 

"Bye, dad!" Yevgeny called out. Mickey waved him goodbye and finally, the Milkovich siblings left the apartment to join the night life of the Northside. 

* 

"This one's the one I always go to," Mandy said, dragging her brother into a club namely called _the X_. "The girls and I go here for a little eye candy after a long week." 

And Mickey couldn't help but feel mocked. 

There were a lot of men. A lot. But it was clear that it was a club for women to ogle their eyes out. 

Not that Mickey didn't appreciate it. They were nice men to look at. Granted none of them were his type and this didn't look like the type of scene for a quickie in the bathroom stall. 

There was a sort of class here. Not so much as it was overly posh and pretentious, but even Mickey knew this place was just all in good fun. 

But Mickey did secretly hope this wasn't the only club they'd be hitting it up at. This place made him feel underdressed, and there were actually men on platforms wearing almost nothing. 

"Relax, this is just the appetiser." Mandy said, tugging him towards the bar. 

And their night out together had officially begun. 

The next club was a little more highkey and had more of a club feelー bodies grinding on the dance floor, music pumping through his earsー it was now Mandy's turn to feel a little uncomfortableー a little overdressed. 

But they had fun, Mandy managing to get a phone number or two and Mickey managing to get a little tipsy. 

It was around ten thirty when they hit up a McDonalds joint that was still open, snacking on a large meal and reminiscing about more simpler days back in the Milkovich shithole. 

Days where not a single Gallagher had crossed their paths. 

It was nostalgic. Strangely safe. It kind of gave them a fuzzy and foreign feeling. 

Returning back onto the streets, with the cool air against their heated skins sobering them a little, it was inevitable that Mandy would wanna still drag Mickey to another club before the New Years firework celebrations occurred in the main parts of the Northside. 

And it was like Mandy was trying to be lowkey, or wanted to make this particular club the climax of their night, but it was plainly obvious to Mickey what she was trying to do. 

She was trying to set him up. 

Of course it was a gay bar they'd end up in.

"I feel so outta place." Mandy said as she shoved her ID back into her wallet. "Wasn't sure if the bouncer was gonna let me in!" 

"Why wouldn't they?" Mickey asked. 

Mandy pinched his arm. "Cause I don't have a dick, asswipe."

"They're just probably wondering why you'd be coming here. Like, does this bitch know the guys who come in here ain't gonna be batting for her team? Whatever. Who gives a shit." 

"Speaking of dicks!" Mandy said a little more cheerily. 

"Not happening." Mickey sighed. 

"Not even just the tip?" She joked as the two of them navigated through the dance floor towards the bar. 

"No dicks are going up my ass, not tonight." 

"Just Ian's, huh?" 

And it was like some sort of trigger, that three letter word, that caused Mickey to stop in his tracks. 

Now Mandy sighed. "Mickey, I know you talk a big game about moving on and shit, but unless you actually try to, you're still gonna be stuck." 

"I'm not stuck. And how the fuck do you know I'm not trying? I'm just fucking fine, fuck you very much." 

"Mick, it's like you're not even gonna _try_ and find someone that's not him." Mandy crossed her arms. "It's been what, almost a month? Three weeks? Since you've found out he's getting married?" 

"Oh, and, what, you want me to go out searching for someone else? Just like that? Like I have the fucking time? Like I _need_ to do this? I got a job to do and fucking family to feed. Got more important stuff to take care of instead of getting off." 

"Mick, that's not what I fucking meant." Mandy huffed out. "I'm just saying you're going to be hung up on Ian forever and I don't want that for you. I want you to just get over him, stop moping around playing house with Svetlana, being some dutiful husband, wasting your life awayー" 

"That's just fucking it, Mandy!" He shouted. " _That's just it._ I already _did_ waste my life away. I wasted my _entire twenties._ I wasted my fucking _teens_ chasing after Gallagher. You think I wanna pine after him until I die? You think I don't wanna move on?" 

"He's not the only guy in this world for you." Mandy declared. "He's not the only one. He may have been the one but he's not anymore. And there is someone else out there, you just gotta put yourselfー " 

"I don't want someone else, okay?" Mickey grounded. He rubbed his face in frustration, exhaling harshly. 

He hated this. This kind of vulnerability. 

He absolutely hated it. He was never afforded the luxury growing up, and meeting Gallagher exposed him to this form of weakness.

And it hurt a lot. 

He spent a good portion in jail falling back into his roots, building up his walls that had been torn down by Gallagher.

And when he got out, he was doing just fine.

He got a place and a job. 

He was _just fine_ with that kind of life. 

But then Mandy strolled back in, and Svetlana and his kid. Then one by one, the Gallaghers too.

And Ian. 

God, Ian. 

When he was with Ian, it was like the walls were never built back up. Like everything was the same, and in a way, it was. 

His feelings for Ian were the same. 

And he knew Ian's feelings for him were too. 

Those eight long years were worth it, Mickey thought, the moment he saw Ian again. 

The moment they kissed. 

The moment they fucked. 

The moment they loved.

It was all worth it. 

Mickey felt stupid for thinking that it was, but by God, there were no regrets. 

Just sadness.

Mandy's hardened expression softened a little. "No one will ever compare to him, I know. I know." She said, placing a tentative hand on Mickey's arm. 

And she did know. She knew damn well what it felt like to fall in love with a Gallagher. 

She never felt that way about anyone else the way she felt about Lip. 

She loved Lip. She always will. 

But she moved on.

A long time ago. And Lip did too.

In a way, she knew she couldn't understand why her and Mickey's situations weren't comparable. They both loved a Gallagher, and both have been hurt by them. 

Maybe it was because she moved on and Lip did too that there was nothing but memories between the two of them. 

Fuck, it was all Ian's fault.

He gave her brother hope that there was still something between them, and it's most likely that there is. 

It's probably why she's so adamant on making her brother hook up with someone new. It's not just going to work out for anyone unless they can drop everything for each other.

They can't.  

Can they?

Fucking Gallaghers. 

"Let's just get a little more shitface drunk." Mandy suggested, deciding to just drop it. "We were having fun, right?"

Mickey's eyebrows furrowed before he relaxed his shoulders. "Yeah." 

"I won't push." She said. "Sorry I did." 

"S'fine." He shrugged. "Let's go to the bar." 

She smiled small, linking her arm with Mickey's as Milkovich siblings gravitated towards the far side of the club. 

*

"Nonononononono! That's enough!" Mandy said as Mickey gestured for another drink from the bartender. 

"Fuck youー fuck you _hic_ ," Mickey rubbed his chest, hiccuping a few more times with Mandy giggling like a schoolgirl. "Fuck you _mean_ that's enough?" 

"You can't even talk properly," She said, wiggling her finger at the bottled water in the fridge. The bartender returned with yet another two glasses of alcohol before coming back with the water.

"Svetlana, sheー _hicー she_... Uh, she can drink the entire fuckingー _hicー_ bar, you weak shit." Mickey slurred, wrapping his fingers around the new glass. 

He didn't take a sip though, instead, he brought the glass up to his face, pressing it against his heated cheeks. The cold felt nice. 

Mandy huffed. "Well _maaaaaaaybe_ you should've went out on a date with her insteada me," 

"Fuck no," Mickey quickly dismissed her. "Already married to her, fuck I gotta date her for?" 

"Barkeep!" Mandy called out, catching the attention of the bartender who tended to them since they sat down on the stools. 

"Yes, ma'am?" He greeted back as he wiped dry a glass. 

"Time?" 

He checked his wrist watch. "Almost eleven thirty, ma'am." 

"Thank you," she said, handing her card to pay off their tab. The bartender accepted it with a small bow, and retreated back to the counter. Mandy then turned to her brother. "We gotta bounce." 

"I gotta chuck a piss." He said, quickly finishing his drink in one go. Mandy watched him with an open mouth. 

"You're fucking insane!" She almost shouted. "You're gonna regret that tomorrow!" 

"What's new?" He chuckled, swinging around his stool. He soon disappeared into the crowd in search for the bathroom. 

Took him a while, admittedly.

Inside, it was empty, and the air was somehow cooler. The music only thudded in the background and for a second, his mind cleared. 

After taking a leak, he stood in front of the sink. And as he was washing his hands, he stared at his reflection in the mirror. 

His cheeks were really red. Really red. But it was just his cheeks, and maybe the tips of his ears. 

His hair was a mess, too. Not sure how that happened, but to him, he looked like someone who's having a good time. 

He was having a good time. 

It had been a while, and he liked it a lot.

He turned off the tap and quickly sprinkled his face with the water droplets on his fingers before returning back into the scene.

For a moment, he was a little disorientated, unsure of which direction he came from and the loud music and neon lights and overwhelming mounds of bodies pressed against bodies on the dance floor didn't help him find his way back to Mandy. 

He was sure he went around the dancing men, and once he gained his bearings, he decided to just _fuck it_ and go through the mosh pit. The bar was on the opposite end from the toilets. 

So he dived in. 

Surprisingly, there was a lot of leeway, and he managed to weave his way in between the strangers on strangers, grinding and groping and doing literally anything besides dancing. 

A part of him, an unknown and spontaneous part of him, wanted to join these guys, maybe even for a minute or two, but he knew he would lose track of time and get shouted at by Mandy for missing the New Years fireworks. 

Maybe next time. 

So Mickey continued to weave his way in between, making it almost to the end before someone caught his wrist. 

They yanked him back. Hard. 

"What the fuckー" Mickey almost tripped back, landing against the assailant's chest. And the next thing to slip out of his mouth was, "Shit, I'm wasted." 

"Hey." 

"Fuck, you look like someone I know." Mickey slurred, blinking his eyes rapidly. It was hard to see under the low lighting and flashing lights. The man laughed. 

"His name doesn't happen to be Ian, right?" 

Mickey's free hand subconsciously reached up to touch the man's face. "Oh, fuck. It's actually you. Shit." 

"You're so fucking hammered." Ian smiled, letting go of Mickey's wrist. Mickey gave him the widest grin. 

"Fuck yeah, man. New Years Eve. Celebrating with Mandy." He said, thumbing behind him to point in the direction where Mandy was.

"She's here?" Ian asked, leaning in a bit. "In a gay bar?" 

Mickey shrugged. "Her idea. She wanted me to get some." 

Ian twitched a little, albeit involuntarily. "Oh, yeah? Did ya?" 

"You jealous, Gallagher?" Mickey rose a brow, a mischievous look on his face. Ian did not look impressed. "Kidding, man. Kidding. Haven't had dick since you." Mickey laughed. 

Ian coughed. "Really now?" 

"You drinking?" Mickey asked, oblivious to the shift in topics.

Ian pressed his lips into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed. "Uh, had a few sips, not a lot." 

"Good!" Mickey playfully slapped a hand on Ian's chest. "You shouldn't be drinking on your meds. Bad bad bad for you." He waggled his finger rather comically.

"Fuck, you're so drunk." Ian commented, slightly amused. 

"No way can I hang out here sober." 

"I missed you." Ian suddenly said, speaking a little more softer. That caused Mickey to step in closer so he can hear the younger man. 

"We texted?" Mickey recalled. 

And they did text after that time in Ian's apartment. Sure, it might've just been simple pleasantries such as _good morning_ and _Merry Christmas_ , and sure, maybe in the three weeks since they've last seen each other till now, the texts accumulated between them just barely hit double digits, but it was something. 

Fuck, it was more than what they did the last time they tried to be _just friends_. 

"You didn't stay." Ian said. Mickey cocked his head to the side in confusion. Ian, being the more sober one, maybe the only one in this entire club, elaborated. "The last time we met. You didn't stay." 

Now it clicked. "I told you I wasn't gonna." 

Ian nodded. "I know. I know. I just thought you would." 

Mickey sighed. "Didn't want your fiancé walking in on us again. We did fuck a few times." 

Ian chuckled sadly. "I guess." 

"Speaking of, where is he?" Mickey asked just for the sake of it.

"Uh, he's with Carl." Ian said. "Somewhere here. He's playing wingman." 

"Oh? Nice." 

"Yeah." 

Mickey glanced down for a minute, feeling a little awkward and shy. He was sobering a bit, but he was still drunk enough to ask the question lingering in his mind, "Why didn't you choose me?" 

Ian bit his lip. "What do you mean?" 

Mickey shrugged. "I'd drop everything in a heartbeat for you if you asked. But you never did." 

"Mickey..." 

"You can just say it was a mistake. That you asked him to marry you because you were mad at me." Mickey continued on, his fingers playing on the drawstrings of his inner jacket. "I don't want you to get married to him." 

"You don't get a say." Ian said softly. 

"I know." Mickey looked up. "Neither did you when you got mad at me for marrying Svetlana. I get why you were mad. But we weren't together. You never asked for us to be together. And fuck, Ian, if you had just said the word," 

Ian sighed shakily. "If I did, would you have still married her?" 

"I don't know." Mickey admitted. "I met my kid. I hung out with him. Learned about him. I only did what I did for him, you gotta know that. That's all that was. And I missed a good portion of his life. And he loves me and I don't even fucking know why, but he does. My son, man. He's my fucking son." 

Ian sighed, understanding Mickey's point of view but still struggling to accept it. "You just... You treat marriage like it's nothing." 

"Ian, that's cause it is." Mickey said. "I got married to someone who... And she got pregnant. And I got scared and it just lost its meaning to me. A piece of paper. I married someone I didn't love." 

"What if it was me? Would it mean something to you if it was me?" Ian asked, and he was scared to know the answer in all honesty, but the look Mickey gave him settled his nerves. 

It was that look.

The one look in his eyes. 

Ian knew it. 

"You already know the answer to that." Mickey said. "You already know." 

And this was bad.

So  _very very bad_.

But as Ian grabbed Mickey by the wrist, pulling him out from the dancing bodies and back into the direction of the toilets, he realised something. 

What was the point in fighting this? 

It had been clear from the very start on what he should've done. 

All this hurt, all this unnecessary pain, it could've been avoided. He could've been with Mickey for months now, rebuilding their lives together. 

They could've spent all this time getting to know each other again.

And in retrospect, Ian wasn't even sure why it was so hard to decide. 

Yes, he knew it would be hard to end things with Trevor. 

Those years, they did mean  _something_. 

But the thought of just dropping everything, dropping everything that was  _safe_ , had scared him.

He was safe with Trevor.

His life with him was a good one. 

But then there was the guilt he felt. The guilt of betraying Trevor, and the guilt of going back to Mickey  _now_ of all times. 

He had eight years to fix things. To try again. 

He didn't. 

And that ate away at him when Mickey came back into his life. 

The thought of being with Mickey now when it was convenient; it was unfair. Mickey was right. 

And he made it clear on what he wanted, but he wasn't going to stop his life for Ian when Ian didn't even know what he wanted. 

At the time after hearing the news all of a sudden, all he wanted was to see Mickey, but even just _looking_ at the man he fell in love with almost thirteen years agoー everything came flooding back. 

All the feelings. All the emotions. All the love. 

It was a mistake, one he made willingly. 

Ian forced himself back into Mickey's life just when Mickey was finally getting used to a life without him. 

And then Ian left him out to dry. He always went back to Trevor. Always. 

But Mickey was the reason he strayed away from the man he'd been dating for seven years. 

Mickey was the reason his heart beat so fucking fast. 

Mickey was the reason he kept disloyal to Trevor. 

Mickey was the reason for everything he's done. 

Everything he's doing, everything he's feeling. 

God, he was so in love with Mickey. 

And no amount of years that had separated them can change that.

_Just say the word._

He shoved Mickey into an empty stall, locking it behind them. 

* 

"The fuck happened to you?" Mandy asked as soon as Mickey returned by her side almost thirty minutes after he left to go to the bathroom. 

"Nothing, let's go." He said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and guiding her towards the exit of the club. 

"Mickey?" She questioned but followed in suit, relishing in the cool air the outside provided. "You looked so fucked out." 

"Sorry." He said, rubbing his face before running his hand through his hair. "Fireworks' 'bout to start in soon." 

"We probably missed all the good spots, who was it?" She asked, unsure of which conversation she wanted to pursue. Mickey kept walking at as brisk pace, Mandy struggling to keep up. "Wait, will ya!" 

"No one, don't worry." He dismissed, crossing his arms over his chest, keeping his head down. 

"You're fucking blushing, you dick!" She almost squealed, hitting her brother with her wallet. 

"Fuck off, I'm drunk." 

"No, you'reー you're  _definitely_ blushing, Mickey! Who was it!" She demanded. 

"None of your fuckin' business." He abruptly flipped her off and her laugh resonated in the near empty streets. 

The crowd had must've already gravitated towards the best vantage points in the Northside for the fireworks. The roads were closed off and many shops have closed off too. 

Suddenly, Mickey felt the urge to sit in the middle of the road. 

"The fuck you doing now?" Mandy asked once she noticed her brother no longer walking. She turned back around and stood in front of him. 

"Need a second." He said, putting his head in between his bent knees. Mandy rose a brow, using Mickey's shoulder for balance as she lowered herself down to sit next to him on the asphalt. 

"Oh? Mystery man got you all fucking flushed and shit?" She teased. Mickey's lack of an answer meant  _yes_. "Youー you don't have to tell me but tell me you at  _least_ got his number!" 

Mickey just grunted. 

"Jeez, okay. You don't fuck and tell. Not even  _that_. Whatever. You look fucking happy though, just saying." She said, leaning her head on his shoulder once he sat upright. 

Mickey sighed. He was _feeling_ happy. "It was Ian." 

Mandy moved to look at her brother's profileー he just stared straight ahead. 

And in the near distance, a faint array of chants could be heard. 

_Three..._

_Two..._

_One..._

And then cheers. 

Mandy parted her lips to speak but a loud  _bang_ interrupted her. 

The first set of fireworks shot up into the sky, colouring the black canvas with bright lights. 

Mandy's eyes lingered on her brother for a moment before she looked up at the display. 

It was beautiful. 

It was memorising. 

Her heart pounded against the beat of the bangs despite being so far from the source. 

And then she felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. 

Mickey drew her in close, not tearing his eyes away from the display before saying, "Happy New Year, little sister." 

Mandy huffed, smiling a little. "Happy New Year, big brother." 

* 

Ian only got a couple hours of sleep when he woke up in the Gallagher household around ten a.m. 

The place was a fucking mess; party banners, streamers, snacks and spilt drinksー this was going to be a fucking nightmare to clean up. 

But it was well into the New Year's Day; Fiona would probably let them take a few days to gradually restore the place to some semblance of cleanliness. 

After taking a leak, washing his face and rinsing his mouth, he headed downstairs into the kitchen. 

Cards, chips, crumbs, finished beers and other stuff littered the dining table. 

He decided to at least clear that. 

After taking out the trash, he turned on the stove, deciding that making breakfast would be a nice hangover cure for the drunk out Gallagher clan.

He barely drank when he was out and maybe had half a beer here at home so he suffered nothing but an empty stomach the next morning.

And the thing about not getting shitfaced drunk and inevitably blacking out was that he remembered everything. 

He remembered everything. 

As he whisked the eggs to make it scrambled, his mind replayed his encounter with Mickey. 

He remembered the way Mickey tasted; heavy alcohol on his tongue but not strong enough to mask  _his taste_. And he remembered the way he felt; his handsー how it roamed all over his body touching every part that made Ian mewl. 

He remembered the way he smelt; that intoxicating scent that drove Ian insane; drunk on his sweat and faded cologne. 

He remembered the way he sounded; moans bouncing off the bathroom stall. 

And most importantly, he remembered what Mickey said. 

"You're up early." Trevor mumbled, rubbing his eye as he trudged down the stairs. Ian gave his boyfriend a small smile. 

"It's ten." He said. They kissed as a greeting. 

"You're enthusiastic." Trevor groaned, taking a seat in the stool across from Ian. "My head is fucking  _killing_ me." 

"Coffee?" Ian offered. 

"Please." 

Ian poured him a cup and Trevor revelled in the taste. "Hungry?" 

"Yeah." 

Ian poured the scrambled eggs into the frying pan, watching it sizzle and cook before he got started on the pancake mix. "I'll be done in a few." 

Trevor just hummed, eyes barely open. "You're fidgety." 

"What?" 

"You get fidgety when you wanna tell me something. And you're fidgety now. What is it, babe?" 

"I'm..." Ian let that sentence die on his tongue as he held onto the frying pan in one hand and spatula in the other. His mind wandered. 

Trevor opened his eyes at the silence. "Ian?" 

Ian scrambled the eggs for a moment, letting it all cook before scraping it onto a plate. He then sighed deeply, finally looking up. 

Biting his lower lip and shrugging just a little, Ian said, "We need to talk." 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another... update? :^)

Mickey wasn't paying attention to the conversation Mandy and Svetlana were having when he suddenly asked, "Ever thought about getting your citizenship?"

The conversation that was just mere background noise to him stopped and he felt two pairs of eyes on him. He looked up from his phone where he'd been browsing on the net.

"What?" Svetlana said.

Mickey realised he had asked out loud; he shifted a little uncomfortably on the stool (the three of them were sitting by the kitchen island in Mandy's apartment) before grunting. "Your citizenship. You've been here for what? Ten years?"

"Yes, illegally." Svetlana informed. "Kind of. Half and half."

"Instead of relying on marriage to keep your ass here, why not be an actual citizen?" Mickey suggested, trying to sound casual about it. In reality, he really wanted her to agree with it and he was anxious to know her answer.

Svetlana squinted. "Hmm,"

"What?"

"I see."

"See what? Why you looking at me like that?"

Svetlana shot Mandy a knowing look, one that Mandy quickly averted her eyes from.

Mickey's eyebrows furrowed. "Fuck does that mean?" He asked, suspicious.

"No, nothing." Svetlana took a sip of her coffee to hide her smile. Now Mickey shot a glance at Mandy, one that said _the fuck you tell her?"_ Mandy just shrugged her shoulders in reply, now also drinking her coffee, trying to mind her business.

The room grew silent.

It was now a matter of who was going to crack first.

(It was Mickey).

"Okay, what the fuck's up with you both?" He asked, putting his phone completely down.

Svetlana shook her head. "Nothing." She insisted. Mickey was progressively getting more and more pissed off for no good reason and she knew it.

She also knew why he was asked his earlier question and that he wouldn't outright tell her his reason for asking it.

Sure, she was ball parking but even she knew how fast Mickey has changed since going out. Something must've happened to him last night and although Mandy did keep quiet of what Mickey told her, Svetlana was already good at reading people.

And what she read off Mickeyー it was rather obvious. She could tell almost straight away once he woke up (last, by the way).

It was well into the New Year's Day with Mickey forcibly woken up once it reached noon, and what made it obvious to Svetlana, the shift in his demeanour, was that he wasn't even mad when she woke him up.

And then it was the blissful look he had eating breakfast (technically lunch); it was calm, serene.

Extremely happy.

She knew the kind of happiness he wore on his face anywhere. She'd seen it almost ten years ago. She'd seen it a few months ago, and she sees it right now.

Mickey asking his question nailed it in the coffin for her.

Mickey was seeing Ian again, and it wasn't just as friends.

Maybe as friends? The details of what Ian and Mickey are were still murky to her but she knew he got a piece of what Ian was packing.

She just knew.

Mickey Milkovich, to her, was like an open book that only she could read. Maybe it's because she was just good at it, or maybe because she has been married to the guy, but he wore his heart on his sleeve through her eyes.

The mediocre texts he and Ian had been sending in December caused Mickey only sadness. A kind of excited sadness.

The kind of almost being _the one_ but not coming close enough to being _the one._

And she may have snooped around on his phone, but that's besides the point.

Right now, the only one that she knew that could make her husband happy was Ian.

It was time for her to see if her theorising and reading was true.

"Why would I want to be a citizen when I am married to one?" She asked nonchalantly.

Mickey stared at her for a moment. "Like I said, so you don't have to rely on marriages,"

She shrugged, "Too much hassle. This is much easier."

"Well, what if you find someone you actually wanna marry?" And Mickey felt a little stupid for saying that; Svetlana was internally screaming at how out of character he was.

Another tell, if anything. 

"What, like someone I love?" She asked. Mickey shrugged as if to say _I don't know, maybe?_ She laughed at the idea. "Oh, what is love? I only love two things, my Yevgeny and money. Everything else is not important."

Mickey grabbed his own mug of coffee and damn near downed the whole thing. He was done talking, she could tell. But she was not.

Svetlana bit her inner cheek. "Why? You tell me to become a citizen not for me but for you? So I can stay here in the USA with Yevgeny with no problems of getting deported? Why, you wanna marry someone you love?"

"No." Mickey quickly answered.

_Liar_ , both Mandy and Svetlana thought.

"Then is no problem. No need for me to be citizen, I just stay married to you forever. Our family till death do us part, hurrah!" She cheered, raising her empty mug. She could see Mickey clenching his teeth as she leaned over the island to clink her mug with Mandy's.

"I gotta chuck a shit." Mickey mumbled under his breath, taking his phone before heading into the bathroom.

"Don't bomb it!" Mandy called after him. She received a loud slam of the door as a response. She rolled her eyes before looking at Svetlana. "You're mean." She smiled.

Svetlana shrugged. "He is stubborn."

"So you know?" Mandy asked, not really trying to reveal much just in case.

"It is so easy to tell with him." Svetlana said. "He didn't get angry at me when I woke him up. I knew something was wrong. He is always angry at me when I wake him. Something happened last night, yes?"

Mandy ran her tongue over her teeth. Svetlana understood what that meant.

"With Ian, yes?" Svetlana added.

"I know as much as just that." Mandy said, now clear they're both in the same page. She didn't want to be the one to bring it up in case of liability and Svetlana was fine with taking the brunt of Mickey's impending rage once he finds out they're talking about him and Ian.

"What happened?" Svetlana inquired. Mandy slid into the stool next to her, as if the distance between them was too far that she'd practically have to shout across the island.

"I don't know? We were in a gay bar and we were just getting drunk then he needed to pee right before we were gonna go leave to see the fireworks but he took a while? Practically half an hour? And he comes back all fucking dazed, blushing and shit with sex hair?"

"Oh?"

Mandy nodded. "And then I asked him about it; at first he didn't wanna tell me but then all of a sudden he tells me he was with Ian?"

"You see Ian?"

"Nope." Mandy said, trying to recall last night. "Mickey basically ran us outta there, like he needed to leave,"

"So the encounter was bad?"

"No, he was really happy looking. He needed to sit down outside, like he needed a moment to compose himself."

Svetlana hummed, clearly amused by this.

Mandy traced the rim of her mug absentmindedly. "Really till death do you part?"

"I have checked about the citizenship before." Svetlana confessed. "Either be a permanent resident for five years or married to one for three."

"You already searched it up?"

"Yes." Svetlana said. "They day we got remarried, I researched it. And I also did a lot of things after that. Fixed a lot of things. Social security, banking details, passport, identity, everything."

Mandy just looked at Svetlana, unsure of what to make of this.

"I am okay like this. Mickey? Not so much." She said. "He did something for me when he asked me to marry him. Of course, he did it for Yevgeny, but he still did something for me in a way, too. He has done a lot for me when I think back. He is just an asshole when he does it."

Mandy laughed at that.

Svetlana continued, "So I think about what I could do for him. This, me being a citizen, is all I can think of. I do not get deported, Yevgeny can stay in Mickey's life, and Mickey can... Well, you know."

"I do." Mandy said.

They heard the toilet flush.

"So, before you were saying, are you sure you want to do that?" Svetlana asked, deciding to pick up on their conversation from earlier before Mickey interrupted them.

"Yes." Mandy said, quickly catching the shift. "I mean, why not? I have the money. You guys, I'm assuming, need a bigger place than a shitty studio. And I can also have all the paperwork ready to give him ownership."

"It will take a long time." Svetlana said just as Mickey returned back into the kitchen. "But if you are really okay, then okay."

"Okay with what?" Mickey asked.

"Wow." Mandy said. "You really weren't paying attention, were you?" Mickey just gave her a _well isn't it obvious_ face. Mandy rolled her eyes. "I said, we were thinking of renovating our old home. Updating it. Fixing it. The Southside may have a stigma but it's come a long way since we've last all lived there. And you guys can move back home."

"I already said yes." Svetlana informed as a matter of fact.

Mickey looked at both his sister and his wife, somehow unable to comprehend Mandy's two second summary. "Wait, you're thinking of doing _what?_ "

*

He hated this. 

He hated that he was roped into this. 

It wasn't so much as he was against the idea of the revamp of the old Milkovich home, it was growing more along the lines of  _it's fucking cold_ , and that he'd rather spend the weekend  _fucking warm_. 

The snow had progressed greatly throughout the first week of the New Year's; Charlie decided to keep the shop closed on the weekends until the snow lets up. 

Mickey thought it was bad for business; so many cars would get all fucked up and in need of mechanical assistance, but at the same time, he wasn't too keen on working with freezing fingers against cold metal, so he kept his thoughts just his thoughts. 

Which is why he was annoyingly against this. 

He complained as they threw out all the old furniture and appliances (they had hired a moving truck to lug out all the crap and take it down to the dump); he complained when Mandy screamed at the rats and cockroaches that called their home their own. He complained when Svetlana complained about him complaining. 

It wasn't until the living room and kitchen were almost bare, and they finally decided it was time for lunch, did Mickey stop complaining. 

It may have something to do with the fact that his mouth was  _full_ , but it had been a peaceful half hour. 

Sitting on the floor in the near barren living room, pizza boxes sprawled around them, Mandy sifted through the mail that accumulated by the front door. 

She sighed heavily. "God fuckin' damn it." 

"What?" Svetlana asked as she was pouring a glass of soft drink for Yevgeny. 

"The cheques I send in here for gas, electricity and water have been cashed in, but the bills haven't been paid. Maybe in the last six months." 

"The fuck you paying the bills here for?" Mickey spat out. Mandy just shrugged. "We already own the house, no one's living here so who gives two shits if it's paid or not?" 

"I don't know, okay?" Mandy said, not really wanting to delve into the fact that she knows that her older brothers sometimes come home at least a couple times since Mickey's been locked up. "It's not much, the utilities were barely used. I'll pay it on Monday." 

"What are you going to do with ownership of the house? Is under Terry's name, no?" Svetlana asked and Mickey couldn't help but tense at the name. 

"I'll fix that up too." Mandy assured. "I know people." 

"People?" Mickey said in suspicion. 

"Clients, okay, Mick? And the last I heard from Terry's that he's been locked up again." 

Mickey had heard that too, that he was still in jail. But Mandy's sentence made him ask, "What do you mean  _again?_ " 

She shrugged. "Been in and out since you got locked up." She said. "Always landing his ass back inside for either breaking parole or some other illegal shit." 

"You keeping tabs on our old man, huh?" Mickey mocked. Mandy rolled her eyes, flipping him off. 

"Okay, so we should fucking bleach the living room and kitchenー Svetlana, wanna tackle the bathroom?" 

"Hurrah." She cheered sarcastically. 

"Then tomorrow, we'll fix up the bedrooms." Mandy planned. "Next week, we do some renovation, some painting, Svetlana, order the furniture?" 

Svetlana arched her eyebrow, clearly interested in that.

"I'll give you my card. Go easy, okay? I may have been saving for the past eight years, but even my bank has limits, too." 

"No worries, sister in law. I'll be good." Svetlana smiled. "I am smart with money." 

Mickey snorted at that.  Svetlana gave him a playful glare. 

"Okay, so we're all good?" Mandy asked. Mickey, Svetlana and Yev nodded in unision. "Good!" 

After cleaning up their lunch and digging around the house for some old rags and brooms, Mandy went down into town to pick up some cleaning supplies whilst Mickey and Svetlana went off dusting all the dirt and rubbish the floors have accumulated over decades. 

When Mandy came back almost half an hour later, she did not come back alone. 

"Hello~" A loud voice called through the roomー a  _female's_ voice that wasn't Mandy's. 

Mickey poked his head around from where he'd been in the pantry (more like weaponry storage) just as Svetlana emerged from the bathroom to see... 

The fucking Gallaghers. 

"Hey, Mickey." Debbie greeted, holding Franny's hand. 

"Debbie, hey." Mickey said, a little confused. He looked at Mandy who just gave him a small shrug. Then Carl came in through the door. 

"Hey." Carl said nonchalantly. Mickey nodded in acknowledgement, pocketing the rag he had in his hand.

"I saw Lip." Mandy said as the younger Gallaghers looked around the barren living room. "He was at the store and well we got to chatting and..." 

"Mandy said you guys were fixing this place up. Moving back in here." Debbie stepped in. "Lip came back with Mandy; we were all just chilling. Decided to come help." 

"Been a boring ass first week of the New Year," Carl yawned as if to exemplify his boredom. "This sounds a little more fun." 

"Oh yeah?" Svetlana came to stand by Mickey, leaning against the wall. Crossing her arms, she asked, "You think cleaning layers of shit and scum and mould is fun, huh?" 

"There's no music playing?" Debbie rhetorically asked. "No wonder you guys look like hell." 

Just then, three more people came in through the doorー it was Lip, wheeling in a guy on a... wheelchair, soon followed by... 

"Hey, Mick." Ian said with a soft smile. 

"Gallagher." Mickey breathed. He felt Svetlana pinch his side; he glared at her. 

"Oh! This is Neil." Debbie said just as Lip turned Neil around to face everyone. 

"This place smells like rat shit." Neil said. Svetlana arched a brow, humming. The paraplegic turned his attention to her. "You're hot." 

"And she's married." Debbie said, embarrassed. "Sorry. He's brain damaged. Can't lie." 

"Is okay." Svetlana said, amused. 

"Married to who?" Neil asked, looking up at Debbie. 

"To him." Svetlana answered, nudging Mickey. 

Neil studied Mickey and Mickey couldn't help but square up his shoulders. Neil smiled. "You give off a gay vibe though. You're probably more attractive to Ian than to your hot wife." 

Mickey almost bared his teeth as Ian coughed uncomfortably, shifting his gaze to the floor. Svetlana laughed heartily, almost too enthusiastically for Mickey's liking.

"O-kay," Debbie clasped her hands. "Wanna get started, Mandy?" 

"Yes! Lets." Mandy said, heading outside to where she (technically Lip, who insisted carrying her bags) left the cleaning supplies. 

"You got speakers?" Carl asked Mickey, approaching the older man. 

Mickey shrugged. "Probably, in my old room? Why?" Carl just headed into Mickey's room, and in a few moments, music blared out from it, loud enough to fill the entire house. Mickey sighed to himself, watching as Lip followed Mandy back outside, Debbie talking to Neil and the little girl, Franny, heading over to Yevgeny. 

And then his eyes met Ian's. 

Ian mouthed a  _hey you_ , followed by another smile and Mickey sighed again, feeling his cheeks heat up. He decided to walk over to the redhead. 

"No fiancé?" Mickey asked quietly. Ian hummed. 

"At work. Busy all weekend." Ian informed, matching Mickey's tone. 

"Convenient." 

"For us, yeah." Ian said.

"How nice." Mickey smiled mischievously. 

"I know, right?" The redhead clicked his tongue, blatantly eyeing Mickey's mouth from where the brunet had been dragging his top teeth over the bottom lip. "Coming back home, are you?"

"Southside ain't that bad anymore, I hear." Mickey cocked his head.

Ian stepped an inch closer. "Do you wanna maybeー" 

"Carrot boy, come in here and help me clean this." Svetlana called out, pulling the two out of their own world. Mickey tongued his teeth, shoving the rag he'd been using to wipe the stove at Ian.

"Came to help, right?" Mickey said, a little louder. "Go and help my wife." He smirked. Ian took the rag, grinning right back. 

"As you wish." Ian said mockingly, brushing past Mickey and into the direction of where Svetlana was. 

The rest of the afternoon went off without a hitchー the cleaning of the living room, bathroom and kitchen passed off as successful with the five bedrooms being aired out and lightly dusted before dinner. 

The Gallaghers stayed with the Milkovichs for take out, and to say it was like old times wouldn't make it soー it was never like this between the two clans. Somehow, however, the air between the two families cleared and to call each other  _friends_ was something they could say with some elements of truth. 

No friendship through relationships. 

Just friendships through friendships. 

Of course, there was the underlining notion of ulterior motives and that this was purely all for show, but even the easy conversations, light atmosphere and genuine laughs couldn't be faked even if they wanted it to be. 

There was just no bad air anymore, and in retrospect, there probably never should've been any. 

It's been years. 

They're all grown. 

It was time to move on. 

Mickey slept in his old room, as did Mandy and Svetlana (with Yev) as the Gallaghers retreated back home. As much as Ian wanted to stay over, he didn't want to rouse any suspicion; his family was still under the notion that he was engaged and that he and Mickey were  _just friends_ (no one was fooled with the way they shot heart eyes at each other when the other wasn't looking, but everyone decided to stay mum about it). 

The next day, the Gallaghers returned back to help out with clearing old of the old stuff in the rooms, mainly broken furniture and old clothes they could donate.

Later in the afternoon, Fiona and Liam swung by to see what the rest of her family's been up to and decided to lend a hand. 

Debbie had said " _Fiona's been in the renovation and home improvement game for a few years now, owning her own apartment blocks and fixing our old home._ " 

Mandy offered to pay Fiona for her services but the knowing look that both Lip and Ian gave her made her decide to just help for the sake of it.

Soon, the Milkovich shithole became less of a shithole and a place that maybe even Northsiders could see potential in. 

Fiona told them that the Milkovich house was one of the rare few that still remained the same in the whole of the Southside of Chicago. Many of the old residents had been bought out of their homes and moved to only God knows where, with Northsiders investing in this neighbourhood, upping the market value. 

" _Even though it looks like a junkyard, no offence, this place has some serious potentional. It's one of the rare few with five bedrooms for a one story house. Yard's big, too. Heard a lot of realtors trying to buy it for years, but the owners are never around._ " 

" _Or they're being kept away._ " Mandy remarked. Fiona cocked her heard to the side, knowingly. 

It was around nine p.m. when everyone decided it was time to stop the home improvement. Dinner was spent at the Gallagher's this time with a home cooked meal prepared by the women. 

Debbie, Neil, Franny and Carl were the first ones to leave, bidding their farewells and the excuse that Franny's got school tomorrow. 

Then Lip headed home, but not before having a long chat with Mandy. 

Mandy ended up going with Lip under the notion of " _I live up in Northside, I can drop you home if you want._ " 

Mickey took that opportunity to take Mandy's jeep and Mandy didn't have the heart to say no to either men. 

The car keys ended up with Svetlana, saying she needed to go back to their home at the mechanics because Yevgeny also had school the next day, and Mickey decided to stay at the Milkovich homeー at least there, he had a fucking bed. 

The walk from home to work wasn't a long one either, he'd done it before the day after being released, so he wasn't worried about being late. 

It would've been nice to drive instead of walking in the cold, but the tired Mickey who wanted a bed decided that now was more important than tomorrow's problems. 

He was about to fall asleep, all completely snug and warm under the thick blankets, when a knock on the front door pulled him from the cusp. 

At first, his mind was screaming at him to ignore it, but then the thought of it being someone _important_ made him roll out of bed (a blanket wrapped around him, of course). 

And he was right. It was someone important.

It was Ian.

It was a little awkward, in all honesty; they were, at first, just staring at each other as if they haven't seen each other since, well, last year. 

And despite practically spending the entire weekend together, it was like this moment here was the first time in a long time since they've last laid eyes on the other man. 

Mickey wanted to be the first to break out of his trance but Ian beat him to it. 

"Hey." He said. 

"Hey." Mickey could only repeat. He stared at Ian a little longer before snapping back to his senses. "What're you doin' here?" 

Ian blinked before scratching the back of his head. "Uh, I guess I just wanted to stop by?" 

"It's almost midnight." Mickey ballparkedー it was only ten-thirty, but neither cared for details. "Don't you have work?" 

"Oh, yeah, I do. Late shift though. A double. Easier to go to work from here, I guess." Ian said, shifting his weight from leg to leg. 

"From your place or mine?" Mickey asked, deciding to indulge in this little play between them. 

"Your place, actually. It's a street closer to work, so..." 

"So you're only here to get a head start?" 

"That, and you're here." Ian grinned. Mickey rolled his eyes at the cheesy expression the redhead wore. "Can I come in? My balls are kinda freezin'." 

Mickey chewed his inner cheek, giving Ian the once over. "Sure it's place you wanna be spending the night at?" And the tone Mickey used was semi-serious. 

Ian caught on. 

Since that time in the club, Ian and Mickey scarcely kept contact. It wasn't because they wanted to avoid each other or that they wanted to forget about that night; it was more along the lines of giving each other space (Mickey mostly).

It became clear on what happened in that bathroom stall was real. It was what they both wanted. 

Mickey just thought to give Ian the space he needed to do what he needed to do. 

He'd be lying though if he said he wasn't insecure; the lack of communication and confirmation throughout the week since their encounter was gnawing at his subconscious. 

But in his heart, Mickey knew that he had nothing to worry about.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Ian asked, his expression sincere and his voice soft.

"Yeah, I guess you are." Mickey said, nonchalantly. "C'mere."

Mickey dropped the blanket he had wrapped around him as his hands stretched out forward, grabbing onto Ian's jacket and pulling him into the house, lips crashing together in the process.

They stumbled back into Mickey's room with the front door shutting close.

*

"So there's some news." Ian said, practically out of the blue. 

"Oh, boy." Mickey said sardonically. 

"Just hear me out," Ian chuckled, stroking back Mickey's hair. "It's... I guess it's _bad_ , but also, it's not."

"Spit it out, Gallagher." Mickey sighed, clearly disinterested in this conversation. He had more... interesting things he'd rather continue doing.

"So, I haven't actually broken up with Trevor yet,"

Mickey looked up at Ian. "Oh, yeah?"

"And it's not my fault." Ian quickly defended.

"It's not?"

"No, it's not. It's just that whenever I try to, well, I get interrupted."

Mickey squinted, unsure of what to make of that. "Interrupted how? How hard is it to just say _sorry but I'm breaking up with you?_ "

"It's not!" Ian said, voice pitching a bit. "Look, I even had a whole speech and shit and reasons and whatever but I just couldn't catch a damn break to do it."

Mickey cocked his head to the side, giving Ian a suspicious look.

"Are you mad?" Ian suddenly asked. Mickey shook his head.

"Nope. Not mad at all." Mickey said, patting Ian's thigh. The tone he used however contradicted his words. "Are _you_ mad?"

"No?" Ian said, confused. "Whyー why would I... Be mad...? My dick's in your mouth, w-well, it was. I'm, I'm not mad."

"Hmm, okay." Mickey hummed, thumbing the underside of Ian's cock languidly as if to remind Ian of what they were doing.

"I know, I know, bad timing, but we never really got a chance to talk since..."

"I know." Mickey said, nodding.

"And it's just been weighing on my mind all fucking week and yeah, we basically spent the weekend together, well our family was around us but still, I couldn't get you alone without looking suspicious and now that I _do_ and you're, Mickey, wait, umー"

Mickey decided to return to sucking Ian off due to the lack of interest in his ramblings, rendering Ian almost speechless.

_Almost._

"Uh, um, okay, um," Ian's eyes fluttered shut as Mickey tongued the slit of his dick, but he decided to try and continue what he was saying, "L-like I said, we barely had a moment alone because well, fuck, um, we were doing the cleaning and... And now you're, _fuck_... Shit... Um,"

Ian felt Mickey smile around his dick as Mickey began bobbing his head up and down, tongue flat and rubbing against the shaft with his hand pumping what he couldn't fit in his mouth.

God, Mickey was good at giving head.

Ian was salivating to the point where he forcibly drank his own spit. 

"Okay, Mick, stop." Ian reluctantly pulled the brunet off him. "I'm trying to talk here."

"Yeah, and I'm listening." Mickey said, his hand still wrapped around the base. Ian breathed out shakily, trying to gain composure. Mickey felt a little bad. He chuckled, letting go of Ian's dick. "Okay fine. You don't want your dick sucked, I get it."

"Excuse you, I do?" He said, sounding mockingly offended. "I just want you to know I'm not... I'm not trying to stall or anything."

"Or anything?" Mickey asked, leaning his arms over Ian's thighs.

"You know." Ian shrugged. "I'm not gonna change my mind, I mean." He elaborated. "I wanna be with you, Mick. And like you said the other nightー you're right. I don't wanna marry Trevor. It was a mistake I made in the heat of the moment. And even the next day after I proposed... I wanted to believe it was really what I wanted. I _did_ believe it."

"I know." Mickey said, looking straight into Ian's eyes. And despite the bedroom being pitch dark with nothing but the streetlights seeping through the window, Mickey knew he was being looked at right back. "So, what happened?" He asked, deciding to let Ian get whatever he had pent up off his chest.

"Well... The morning after waking up, I wanted to tell Trevor straight out. But then..." 

"But then?" Mickey urged on, voice soft and somewhat endearing. 

Ian sighed. "C'mere." He tugged Mickey up by the arms, "I can't really speak with my dick hard in front of your face and you in between my legs," 

Mickey chuckled, letting Ian guide him up from the floor and onto the bed. Ian shucked Mickey out of his shirt as Mickey removed his own boxers, tossing those pieces of clothing randomly on the floor. They were now both naked, sliding under the thick layer of blankets, facing each other. 

Ian continued to brush back Mickey's hair, studying the features on the older man's faceー or at least, what he could see in the dark lighting of the room. 

"What?" Mickey soon asked when Ian just continued to stare at him and stroke his hair. "You gonna tell me or what?" 

Ian smiled small. "I meant what I said." 

"Fuck you mean?" 

"New Year's Eve, in the bathroom stall." Ian elaborated. "Wasn't drunk so I remembered everything." 

"I did too." Mickey mumbled, despite him actually being drunk.

"I know." Ian said. "I know. And I meant everything I said." 

"I know." Mickey assured. 

"So, we're on the same page then?" Ian asked and Mickey nodded. "Just making sure." 

"Okay." Mickey leaned in, pressing a chaste kiss on Ian's lips. 

"I do choose you." Ian leaned back in for a kiss in return. 

"Well, you're not in bed with him, are ya?" Mickey teased.  

"And I'm not stalling," 

"Not stalling." 

"It's you." 

"It's me." 

"I love you, Mickey Milkovich." Ian said, kissing Mickey more deeply. Mickey hummed, parting his lips. 

Mickey felt his chest bloom with warmth, something that not even the cold air of Chicago could dwindle. 

And the memory of what Ian told him in that stallー

He couldn't forget it even if he wanted to.

He didn't want to.

*

Ian didn't want to be rough, it was the last thing he wanted to be with Mickey, but it was something he couldn't control. It was an urge, a desperate need for the man that gave him a feeling no one else gave him.

His body moved accordingly; his mind scrambling to catch up. 

Mickey almost stumbled back onto the closed toilet seat, automatically sliding the two jackets he wore off, not caring where it landed as Ian locked the bathroom stall. 

Once Mickey's arms were free of the jackets, they wrapped themselves around Ian, pulling the redhead into a searing kissー all tongue and heat. 

Ian groaned; his fingers working on unbuttoning and unzipping Mickey's jeans. Mickey laughed against Ian's lips, his own hands roaming and feeling every inch of Ian's body before they tugged off the tight tee, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. 

"Mickey," Ian gasped, drunk off the taste of him. 

"Ian, hurry." The brunet pleaded, turning them around, pushing Ian to sit on the toilet lid before straddling his thighs. "We gotta hurry?" 

And the way Mickey said it, the way he said it as if it was a questionー as if he was asking for permissionー it pulled Ian from his trance and into the moment of what he wanted to tell him.

"Fuck, Mick. Wait. Hold on. Wait." Ian gripped Mickey's hips tightly to keep him still from where he began rutting up against his crotch. Mickey damn near growled, immediately latching his lips to the nape of Ian's neck. 

"Ian, please," Mickey breathed out, licking a stripe up to the back of Ian's ear before moving back to look at him when Ian remained reluctantly unresponsive. "You don't wanna?" 

The strain in Ian's pants indicated an obvious answer. 

"Breathe, yeah?" Ian smiled, stroking Mickey's dishevelled hair. "Breathe. I want you to hear this." 

Mickey closed his eyes, loving the feel of Ian's fingers brushing against his scalp. "Hear what?" 

"I'm sorry." Ian said. "For everything." 

Mickey's eyebrows furrowed. "You already apologised for that." He said, unsure of where this is coming from. He did remember, the first time they reunited, Ian did apologise despite not knowing what exactly it was he was apologising for. 

Nonetheless, he already said it.

"I pushed myself to see you the first chance I got." Ian continued, cupping Mickey's cheek and stroking it softly with his thumb. "Never once did I ever consider how you'd feel about it. I knew how you felt about it and I still put myself first. I was selfish." 

"Yeah, you were." Mickey said lightly.

Ian smiled softly. "And then I was being half assed with you. Thinking you'd just... be there for me when I wanted you to be there; in my own convenience. I pulled you back in without ever telling you what I wanted. Without ever telling you what it meant." 

"You said you didn't know." Mickey recalled.

"I did." Ian confessed. "Maybe not then but deep down, I did. I always went back to you even though I said I didn't know what I wanted. I knew. I knew." 

Mickey dropped his hands down from where they were linked around Ian's shoulders. His fingertips ran down Ian's bare torso, causing the redhead to shiver. Mickey smiled at the feeling. "I understand why it was hard for you to admit it." 

"Do you?" Ian asked. "You knew what you wanted." 

"Where are you going with all this shit?" Mickey questioned, looking up to stare at Ian head on. 

"Mickey, I wanna be with you." Ian declared. "I thought I had an obligation to Trevorー we've been together for so long that I thought I just couldn't end it. All that time I spent with him... wasted. And that it was nothing but a void that needed to be filled. That, and I was scared." 

"To end it with him?" Mickey finished. 

Ian shook his head. "To end up with you." 

Mickey's eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what Ian meant by that. 

"Mickey, I treated you like shit." Ian said. "And I'm not just talking about after you got out. I mean ever since... Ever since I came back from the army. Ever since I was diagnosed... The break up... The last time I saw you in jail... I wanted to forget about you like you didn't matter. And for a long time, you didn't and just I _did_ forget about you." 

Mickey frowned albeit subtly, chewing his inner cheek.

"But even after all that shit, even after all that time... You still love me?" 

Mickey nodded almost automatically.

Ian laughed pathetically. "And that's just it. That's just what did it for me." Ian placed his other hand on Mickey's other cheek, cupping the brunet's face and bringing him close. "Looking at you know, I realise  _fuck, what did I ever do to deserve someone like you? Why does someone as good as you still love someone as bad as me? How did I get so fucking lucky to be loved by you?_ " 

Mickey swallowed deeply, unable to escape Ian's piercing gaze. 

"Why does someone like you wanna be with someone like me, when you deserve so much better? When I don't deserve you?" Ian asked, feeling the extreme regret that only now didnhe finally understand what it means to be loved by a Milkovichー

To finally understand that Mickey's loveー it's truly forever no matter what.

_Just say the word._  

Mickey brushed the tip of his nose against Ian's, his eyes searching his before he sighed, wrapping his arms back around Ian's neck. 

"You're under my skin, man." Mickey whispered. "The fuck can I do? What can I do?" 

"I love you." Ian pressed his lips against Mickey's. 

It was like those three simple sentences put everything into place. 

Everything now made sense in a way that didn't make sense to anyone else but them.

It was now just them. 

No one else can compare. 

And no one else ever will. 

*

According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. 

Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend the rest of their lives in search of their other halves. 

* 

There was no more searching for Ian and Mickey. The only thing they can do now for the rest of their lives was to spend it with each other, like the soul mates they are, and forever shall remain. 

It was how it was supposed to be since the very start.


	19. Chapter 19

Over the course of his twenty-eight years on this earth, Ian has gained a steady reputation on what he was a master of.

Cooking was one of them (breakfast foods at least) and also the speed of in which he can get his job as an EMT done (that was a given).

He was also quite good at maintaining a routinely exercise schedule as well as building back his alcohol tolerance whilst medicated (granted he has cut back significantly, but a beer or two became more tolerable, depending on whether his medication's been tweaked or not).

And he was really good at sex.

But the skill he had recently became a master of these days was procrastination.

Ian had become the master of procrastination.

It became evident when they neared the end of January with him still not breaking it off with Trevor.

The anxiety inside him built more and more as the set wedding date, which was unromantically and the ever so cheesy Valentine's Day, neared. And as the days past and it grew closer to the fourteenth, Ian just found it harder and harder to break up with Trevor.

Not to be mistaken, Ian _definitely_ did not want to marry or be with Trevor anymoreー it was just the excitement Trevor had over the wedding preparations that just made Ian cower and delay the impending talk.

Right now, Trevor was sorting out the food menu.

And the constant reminder that he should do it now, he should break up with Trevor _now_ was siting smugly at the dining table, trying sample cakes.

Fuck, Mickey shouldn't be here.

Ian wasn't sure of what to make of the situation, neither did the other Gallaghers or Trevor, that the ex boyfriend was here just as Trevor and Ian (not so much Ian) sorted and planned the big day.

 _Friends,_ Mickey reminded everyone.

But Ian couldn't help but feel like he was mocking them both.

Trevor, because Ian knows he's going to break up with him, and Mickey, because he hasn't broken up with Trevor yet and is going along with whatever Trevor was planning.

This whole scene was stressing him out and he needed a smoke.

If anyone was helping the situation, it was Mandy.

Mandy was here too, basically answering Trevor whenever Ian spaced out, caught up in his own thoughts.

He doesn't know what Mandy knows but what he does know is that she's so _fucking fake_ right now.

Her helping Trevor in her phoney ass voice and materialistic smile; God, Ian wanted to hug her right then and there. And Ian could also see that Mickey knew Mandy was mocking Trevor.

Maybe she knows.

Ian wonders what Mickey has told her. That they were together on the down low or that Ian's actually going to leave Trevor.

He himself has kept quiet about seeing Mickey again to his family. He knew none of them would snitch on him about leaving Trevor, but also, this is something he knew he had to make sure Trevor heard from his mouth and not accidentally from someone else.

That would be the worst.

Only coming second to the whole cheating and delaying of the impending break up.

Whatever, Ian was the worst.

Mickey knew that though, and yet he still loved him.

God, Mickey looks so damn good right now.

Even when he's shoving cakes down his throat.

"It's a sample, Mick. Not a fucking buffet." Mandy commented, noticing how Ian was blatantly staring at her brother. Trevor looked over his shoulder to see Mickey shoving a slice of the brown cake in his mouth.

"This one's good." Mickey muffled out, pointing at the cake sticking out of his mouth.

"And what about the others?" Trevor asked. Mickey just gave a thumbs up. Trevor turned back around to face Ian and Mandy who were across the kitchen counter from him. "Helpful."

"Mick, you're supposed to pick the best one out of all of them." Ian sighed, looking at the table. "And now you can't because you fucking ate all the samples."

Mickey swallowed whatever was in his mouth, washing it all down with a beer. "Not all, fuckhead. Plus, they're all good?"

"Useless." Ian muttered under his breath. Mandy rolled her eyes, trudging over to where Mickey was to see some half eaten cakes on the table.

Trevor took the opportunity to lean in close. "Is he coming?"

"To what?" Ian asked, matching Trevor's tone.

"The wedding."

"Oh." Ian said. "Uh, no. Don't think so." Trevor arched a brow. Ian stood up straight. "Hey, Mick? You coming to the wedding?" He asked, straightforwardly. Trevor's eyes widened, immediately turning around on his stool to look at Mickey.

Mickey was unfazed, playing with the leftover cakes in his fingertips. "Nah. Too painful." He simply said. Trevor looked back over at Ian.

He mouthed a _why the fuck did you ask that?_

Ian shrugged as if to say, _well you wanted to know._

Trevor slumped his shoulders. "You stress me out, Ian Gallagher." He leaned in again, pressing his lips against Ian's.

Ian froze a little before forcing himself to meld into the kiss, all the while keeping his eyes on Mickey's.

Mickey just stared right back, dragging his top teeth back and forth against his bottom lip.

Ian felt his pants grow tight at the sight.

*

The smell had aired out by the time Mickey finished work. Walking back into the Milkovich  _home_ , he flipped on the lights (now working after Mandy paid off the outstanding bills), and felt a rush of pride swell in his chest. 

The living room looked brand new. 

As in, a newly renovated house. 

Sure, it was in fact newly renovated, but there was just simply no trace of the old Milkovich shithole he and his siblings grew up in. 

The living room and kitchen were almost bare; only a couch and a dining table (both new) occupied the space with a new fridge, kettle and microwave. The smashed in walls and broken floorboards were all fixed and the dull, stained white was replaced with brand new clean one. 

All in the span of about three weeks. 

It was almost February and everything was coming along nicely. 

Everything except...

"The missus here?" 

Mickey turned around just as he was headed into the kitchen to see Ian letting himself inside the house. 

"Uh, no. Staying at the studio. Paranoid for Yev that the paint hasn't dried. It's been like, two daysー" 

Ian strode over to Mickey, capturing the brunet in a hard kiss. Mickey let himself be swayed by the pleasurable feel of Ian's lips moving against his before his mind wired back down to earth. 

He pushed Ian off him gently. "Easy there." He sighed. 

"I'm sorry, fuck. I'm sorry." Ian said, pushing his hair back. "It's been one of those days." 

"Yeah, Mondays, right?" Mickey rolled his eyes as resumed making his way over to fetch a beer. "Want one? What are you doing here? Don't you have lives to save?" 

"I switched shiftsー I just couldn't sleep at home." Ian confessed, dropping his bag onto the floor before taking a seat by the dining table. "Plus, wanted to see you." 

Mickey rolled his eyes again at that cheesy line, opening his beer before turning around to lean against the fridge, facing Ian. "We just saw each other yesterday." 

"Oh, where you were picking out flavours for my fucking wedding cake for my fucking wedding with Trevor?" Ian spat out, making grabby hands at Mickey's beer. 

Mickey sighed, walking over to sit adjacent to Ian on the dining table. He gave Ian his beer. "Calm down a bit, okay? You being stressed out is stressing me the fuck out." 

Ian nodded. "I know. It's just... I wanna be with you and I wanna do right by Trevor and I  _know_ I gotta break up with him but the more we talk about this wedding shit and the more time that passes by, it just gets  _so fucking hard_." He whined before taking a dangerous amount of Mickey's beer. 

Mickey quickly took the can back before shrugging. "I mean, it can't be  _that_ hard." He said. "You didn't seem to have a problem breaking up with me twice." 

Ian damn near banged his head on the dining table, groaning out, " _Mickey_." 

Mickey bit his lower lip, getting that this probably wasn't the best time to make jokes. "Kidding." He said, placing his hand on top of Ian's head. "Just relax, Gallagher. Breathe. But you know, also, hurry the fuck up or you'll end up marrying the guyー" 

Ian abruptly sat up, "I don't know how I'm gonna do this. I  _was_ going to do this. I  _knew_ how I was going to do this but then Carl and Lip and then work and then the interruptions kept piling up and up and then the fucking  _wedding_ _preparations_ and the fucking wedding  _date_ came outta no- _fucking_ -where which, by the  _fucking way_ is in like, two  _fucking_ weeks because I stupidly thought it was going to be so  _fucking_ romantic to get married on Valen- _fucking_ -tines dayー" 

Mickey rubbed the bridge of his nose, watching Ian ramble on without even making eye contact. It was just as if the redhead was voicing his inner monologue (he probably was), but Mickey was tired. He just got back from work and his limbs are sore and stiff from working in the cold and in all honesty, he just wanted to take a shower and go to bed. 

But the way Ian's expression grew dark and stressful made Mickey feel sorry for him. 

He knew this was just how Ian wasー the cute little innocent kid that was too pure for this worldー the kid he met thirteen years agoー

Mickey suddenly sat up, toeing off his boots before working on the belt of his jeans. It wasn't until he was naked from the waist down, stepping out of his pants, did he realise that Ian wasn't going to  _shut the fuck up_. 

He swallowed his pride. 

Mickey heaved himself up onto the dining table, moving so he was right in front of Ian, legs dangling over the edge by Ian's thighs. 

"Mick?" Ian whispered, eyes wide at the display. 

Mickey leaned back on one hand whilst the other hand worked on getting his dick hard. It wasn't that hard with Ian's bulging eyes staring at him. "You gonna relax now?" 

Ian's mouth went ajar, his cheeks flushing for a different reason besides his pent up frustrations. "I was talking..." 

"Mhm," Mickey hummed, palming the head of his cock. "I know." 

Ian was now rendered speechless. 

Mickey chuckled, leaning forward as he continued to stroke his dick. "You wanna fuck me on the table or should I ride you into that chair?"

* 

Ian opted for the second choice. 

No way would he ever pass up on the opportunity of Mickey riding his dick. 

At first, it was tough; neither wanted to get up to go fetch the lube or condoms, so old fashion spit and a tumultuous fingering was what they settled on. 

And even though Mickey was on the cusp of sleep everytime his eyes closed for longer than a second, he managed to rile Ian up until he could finally let him in. 

Then Mickey found the energy to bounce on Ian's lap in a way that made Ian's toes curl and his eyes roll back.

"That good?" Mickey asked as he rolled his hips with Ian seated fully inside. 

Ian nodded against the nook of Mickey's neck, eyes screwed tight as the brunet grinded down. Ian let out a sweet sigh; the arms he wrapped around Mickey's back falling tighter. 

Mickey scratched the back of Ian's head, chuckling at how fast and relaxed Ian now was; melting against his touch, muscles softening where they were tense. 

He began to pick up the pace from where it lacked and fell into a languid fuck; lifting his hips and slamming back down. Ian's hands travelled down, gripping Mickey's hips, guiding the smaller man through the motions. 

"I'm gonna come," Ian moaned, canting his hips into Mickey. Mickey's eyes rolled back in its sockets as he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. 

"Yeah?" Mickey breathed out.

Ian nodded again, a little more urgently. "Mhm, oh fuck...!" Ian grew stiff, stilling as he filled Mick with his come. Mickey clenched around Ian, almost milking the redhead's orgasm out of him until Ian fell pliant against the chair with a sigh of content. 

Mickey laughed, patting down Ian's sweat filled hair, pressing small kisses against the hairline, down Ian's cheekbones before finally resting his lips against Ian's. 

Slowly, they kissed; Ian's tongue swiping Mickey's mouth open. 

Mickey moaned, feeling Ian's hand snake around his dick, tugging at his slick erection. 

"God, you're so good to me, Mick. You're so good." Ian said in between their kiss, his hand speeding up to send his lover over the edge. 

With Mickey coming with Ian's softening dick in his ass and his hand jerking him off, he fell against Ian's chest, grinning. 

"You good?" Mickey asked, sleep threatening to take him. 

"I'm good." Ian answered after a beat, almost cradling Mickey in his arms. "I'm good." 

"That's good." 

"Thank you." Ian said once a moment passed. "Didn't really know I needed that to be honest." 

"Sex is always good." Mickey mumbled. Ian huffed in amusement. "Just... fucking chill, okay? Don't stress over things you don't need to. Just do what you gotta doー that you wanna doー and everything else will work itself out, I guess." 

"Wise words, old man." Ian teased. 

"Fuck off." Mickey smiled. "Let's take a shower." 

After washing clean and changing into more comfortable clothing, the two of them retreated into Mickey's room (newly renovated), settling under blankets. 

With their limbs tangled and their bodies facing each other, Ian studied Mickey's face. 

"You sleeping already?" Ian asked as he ran the pad of his thumb under Mickey's closed eye. 

There was no initial response from the brunet, just soft breathing, until Mickey hummed. 

"I wanna have sex again." Ian said, brushing the tip of his nose against Mickey's. 

"Good for you." Mickey mumbled, eyes still closed. 

"You looked so good on top of me, riding me like that, taking control," Ian kissed Mickey's cheekbone followed by his nose, the bridge of his nose, his forehead, then his eye. 

Mickey chuckled out of embarrassment, smiling as he did. "Fuck off." 

That made Ian smile back too. "Mmm, poor baby, so sleepy already." Ian said in a baby voice, pulling Mickey's head against his chest, holding him securely, until the soft snored erupted.

It was moments like these that made Ian wonder: why did it take him so long to choose Mickey?

*

"So, I need your help." Ian said one day after work. Lip looked at his brother, having a strange vibe to him a jammed himself between the door. Ian cocked his head to the side. "You gonna let me in?"

"This gonna take a while?" Lip asked. He then realised how suspicious that sounded. "I mean, what's it about? Is it serious?" 

Ian decided to let that not-so-subtle _please go the fuck away, now's not the time_ vibe as he said, "Well, you tell me. I'm gonna break up with Trevor to be with Mickey, except I haven't actually done anything about it yet and the wedding is like, next week." He explained in a breath. 

Lip looked down as if to contemplate the gravity of what Ian had said. Or to consider if it was worth letting his little brother in. Ultimately, he decided _yes_ , swinging the door open, allowing Ian access into his apartment. 

Ian went in, immediately inspecting the place. Nothing looked out of the ordinary since the last time he was here, but still he asked, "Got company?" 

Lip scratched the back of his head, "No. Yes." 

"A girl?" Ian deduced as he opened the fridge. 

"Yeah. Whatever. Your thing?" Lip switched the focus. "You, uh... Seriously breaking it off with Trevor?" 

"It's not like I hate him or anything, I don't." Ian said, shrugging. "It's just I don't think I love him enough to spend the rest of my like with him." 

Lip rose an eyebrow. "Ian, you were with the guy for seven fucking years." 

"Okay, yes, I know how that sounds."

"And _you_ were the one that proposed." 

"I know, butー"

"And like you fuckin' said, the wedding is next week and you're thinking of bailing _now?_ "

Ian sighed. "Look, I just can't go through with it anymore, okay?" 

"Then why are you here! Telling me this shit! You should be over there telling him that you don't wanna marry him, not me!" 

"That's what I can't fucking do!" Ian shouted back.

Lip rolled his eyes, rubbing his face. In a more softer tone, he asked, "Okay, and why not?" 

"Because... I've been thinking about doing it for a couple weeks now. And I missed my chance and now it's getting closer and closer and it's just getting harder to break up with him. That, and I'm gonna look like the asshole who can't even give him a proper reason without looking like an asshole." 

"Ian, you've been an asshole to him for months. What's another minute or two?" Lip reasoned, arms crossed over his chest. 

They both stared at each other for a moment, suddenly realising the elephant in the room. 

Lip groaned. "How long?" 

"How long what?" 

"How long have you been seeing him?" Lip elaborated. 

"Seeing who?" 

"Ianー fuckingー please." 

Ian sighed. "We saw each other in New Years Eve. Since then, I just... I decided to choose him."  

"It's almost half way through February, Jesus fucking Christ, Ian, you've been with basically the whole of this year so far?" 

"A month and a half isn't that longー"

"It is if you've been together since you were fifteen fucking years old." Lip said. Ian reluctantly nodded at his brother's statement. "What happened?" 

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean, what happened that night to have made you change your mind?"

Ian moved to stand across from his brother, both Gallaghers leaning against the kitchen island. "He's the love of my life. And even after everything I've done, he still wanted to be with me. And I can't get married to Trevor without thinking _what if he was Mickey?_ I just can't do it." 

"Let's go outside for a smoke." 

Now in the balcony with a joint between them, they stared outside into the city skyline. The air was chilly but the sun was warm, and after the blunt settled into their systems, they picked up from where they left off. 

"He's gotten his life back together." Ian said after a big exhale. 

"Yeah?" Lip hummed.

"Even before we reunited, he had his shit together. More than I ever seen him before. And it was good. Nice. But also, kinda fucking scary?" 

Lip chuckled. "Oh, yeah? Scary how?" 

"I don't know." Ian shrugged. "Like he wasn't the same guy from eight years ago. I mean, of course, he's not the same guy, it's been eight fucking years, but I mean, he's like a different person. Like the best version of him. It's a bit confronting, actually." 

"Were you attracted to him or the idea of him?" Lip asked, before elaborating. "You know, you were that sweet hearted kid falling for the runt of the Milkovich litter. The whole bad boy type?" 

Ian laughed at that. "I don't know. Maybe. Yeah. He was really attractive to me. Strong. And I guess what got me hooked was how easily I could, just, you know..." 

"Yeah, I don't need to know how Mickey Milkovich likes it up the ass." They both laughed at that. 

"I mean, yeah, sex was great with him. But then he just became, I don't know. Something more. He took care of me in ways I thought weren't possible for someone who was raised the way he was. And I fell." Ian shrugged. 

"Well, hate to shit on your parade, but you gotta think about now." Lip said. "You gotta think about the Mickey of right now. You gotta think about where you are right now, and the relationship you're in now."

Ian sighed. "I know." 

"Do you wanna marry a guy you've been building a steady life together with or do you wanna go back to the guy and pick up where you left off?" Lip asked. 

Ian chewed his inner cheek in deep contemplation. 

*

Mickey checked his phone one last time. 

And maybe another one last time. 

He read over Ian's last text, sent on a Sunday, that read " _yeah, I'll cya soon._ " 

It's now Wednesday. 

The wedding day. 

And he hasn't gotten anything from Ian since the last time they met (which was when they fucked on a Monday the week before). 

Sure, the texts were enough to keep Mickey from bouncing off the walls, work was work and Ian had things he had to do. 

But now it was the big day. 

And Mickey received nothing asides from that Sunday text. No calls, no indications that Ian has done the thing he was going to do. 

Nothing. 

And Mickey thought _okay, give the man some space._ Because fuck all if he was going to act like some needy bitch in need of his man. 

Well, sure, he wanted to see Ian, to know what's the go, but that was besides the point. 

He was anxious. Jittery. 

Scared. 

He decided to leave his phone at home (now complete with him, Yev and Svetlana moving in), when he went to work. The distraction wasn't needed and work was a way to pass the time. 

He damn near sped all the way home after work to find yet no texts or missed calls from Ian. 

"Are you okay?" Svetlana asked, coming into the living room with a beer in her hand. She sat next to Mickey on the couch, giving him the beer which he took gratefully. 

"Yeah." 

"Nothing from Ian?" 

He shot her a side glance before shrugging, giving her his answer. 

She hummed. "No worries. Everything will be okay." And she wasn't even specific in her comfort which made Mickey even more on edge than he has been the whole fucking day. 

"Fuck's that shit on the table?" Mickey asked behind his beer. Svetlana looked over the couch towards the dining table. 

"Is flowers." 

"Yeah, I fucking see that it's flowers, what's it for? Where'd you get them?" 

"It is Valentine's Day. I get them for myself to celebrate shitty Hallmark holiday." She said casually, taking Mickey's beer off him and taking a sip. 

"Loser." He muttered. 

"Oh yeah? Did your boyfriend get you flowers?" She taunted. 

"Fuck off." He snapped, snatching the beer back. 

She laughed melodiously just as the door received a loud banging. 

Svetlana and Mickey looked at each other as if to silently decide who was going to answer the door. Svetlana didn't budge when the second set of knocks occurred and with his eyes rolling, Mickey heaved himself off the couch, not before Svetlana pinching the beer back off him again. 

"Who the fuck's coming here at seven o'clock at nightー" 

Mickey's sentence died off his tongue as he opened the door to see Ian. 

"Hey." Ian breathed out, face red. 

"Ian." Mickey said. "Did you fucking run or some shit?" 

Ian laughed breathlessly. "Yeah. Yeah, I did." 

"What are you doing here?" Mickey asked, briefly looking at Svetlana for some kind of reassurance. Her look in return simply said _I assure you I didn't know he was coming_. 

Ian inconspicuously had hidden something behind his back. Bringing it up to his front, Mickey felt like punching the guy. 

A bunch of fucking roses. They were white, too. 

 _So fucking gay_ , Mickey thought as Ian shoved them into Mickey's hands. 

Ian looked at Mickey bashfully, a shy smile on his lips as he said, "Sorry I'm late. Happy Valentine's Day, Mickey." 

Mickey hated how his heart fluttered at that as he tossed the flowers to the side, wrapping his arms around Ian and pulling him into a kiss. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

Mickey had fucked up.

There was just no other way to say it. 

At least, not in his mind. 

Pulling up into the driveway of the Milkovich home, he turned to stare in the backseat of his car; a pair of eyes glaring back at him with a glint. It made him grimace. 

"I hate you." He muttered, begrudgingly turning off the engine before climbing outside. 

Mickey Milkovich had brought home a stray. 

"No no no no no! Get that out of the house!" Svetlana almost shouted as soon as Mickey and the cat entered inside. She held her daughter in her arms securely as if the cat was going to eat her baby. 

"You think I fucking wanted this here?" Mickey said, pointing at the stray. It was filthy and fat but it's eyes were a cool blue. Almost as blue as Mickey's eyes, maybe even bluer. 

"Then why is in the house?" She asked. 

"Fucking followed me, why else?" Mickey answered. When Svetlana rose an eyebrow in suspicion, he sighed. "Look, okay, the cat came into the mechanics during break and it looked hungry so I fed it some of my lunch. Now it's following me around, can't shake it off." Mickey felt a little embarrassed at that but that explanation only made Svetlana see red. 

"So is your fault?" 

"Yes! It's my fucking fault!" Mickey exasperated.

"It followed you in your car?" 

Mickey rolled up his sleeves, "Fucking scratched the shit outta me when I tried to take it out." 

"So is dangerous!" She shouted. The baby in her arms began to wail and Mickey rolled his eyes at Svetlana's dramatics. 

"No, it's not, look, fucking relax, okay?" Mickey said, sounding exhausted. "Let the stray stay the night, I'll take it into the pound or call animal control or something."

"When, huh?" Svetlana snarled, trying to hush her daughter to sleep. "Tonight? Tomorrow? You cannot do tomorrow, Mickey." 

"I know, I know." Mickey said, rubbing his eye. "I'll do it, okay? I'll do it. Just stop shouting." 

Svetlana huffed, patting her daughter's back. She looked at the stray before looking at Mickey. "Fine. But you wash that cat. I do not want that filthy shit in this house with Yuli here." 

"Yes, yes, whatever."

"Wash the cat," Svetlana repeated sternly. "Then you sleep okay? Big day tomorrow."

"Fuck off." Mickey said, looking down at the cat. It looked back up at him with eyes so wide, Mickey almost snarled at how cute it looked. "You got any left overs?" 

Svetlana muttered something under her breath in Russian, turning around to find something to feed the damn cat as Mickey picked up the stray to wash it in the bathroom. 

Several minutes and a few loud crashes and curses later, the cat emerged from the bathroom partially dry and clean. 

Mickey on the other hand came with battle wounds and dripping clothes. 

"I fucking hate you." He said as he watched the cat (that was surprisingly a pure white colour with a patch of black fur on its chest) headed towards the food Svetlana had prepared and put onto the kitchen floor. She and Yulia were nowhere to be seen when he came out from the bathroom, so he assumed they just went to bed. 

He went into his own bedroom, stripping out of his wet and dirty clothes before changing into a tank and some sweats. He padded into the kitchen to fetch the first aid kit to bandage up the deeper wounds (which weren't really that deep) as well as clean himself of his injuries. 

"You fucking menace." He muttered as the sting of the disinfectant made him flinch. The cat ignored him, munching down its food without a care when a heavy knock on the door rang through the house. 

Mickey turned from where he'd been sitting on the dining room table with a confused expression, wondering who the fuck could be coming over here at this time. 

" _Mickey~ open up!_ " Mickey heard from the other side of the door. He rolled his eyes, getting up to answer it.

It was Ian, and he reeked of alcohol. 

"What the fuck, Ian?" Mickey said as the redhead forced himself into the house. He stumbled a bit, standing in the middle of the living room trying to make sure he was steady before turning around to give Mickey a huge grin. 

"Mickey! I gotta show you something!" Ian gleefully said, arms spread out wide. He came in for a hug but Mickey rejected him. 

"You fucking drunk?" Mickey asked, knowing the answer, regardless. 

"No," Ian shook his head comically, then pouted. "Okay, maybe yes. I had three beers or a lot, I don't remember, but look!" 

Ian took a step back and hastily removed his jacket and his shirt. 

Mickey's stomach dropped, but also, he felt his dick twitch in his sweats. 

The love struck face Ian wore as he said "Ta-da!" made Mickey bubble up in rage, confusion and also sexual frustration. 

"Ian, what the fuck!" Mickey shouted once he soaked in Ian's appearance. 

"Shut the fuck up!" They both heard Svetlana scream from her bedroom. 

"Oh, is my baby Yuli sleeping already?" Ian asked, looking in the direction of Svetlana and Yulia's bedroom. He then turned his attention the direction of the kitchen. "Is that a cat?" 

"Yes, it's fucking lateー and yes, it's a cat, Ian! Stop changing the fucking subject." Mickey hissed, his mind unable to catch up with the conversation. 

"Oh, right. Sorry." Ian said bashfully. "Do you like it?" 

"Do I like it? No, I don't fuckingー you're out of your fucking mind!" Mickey growled. 

Ian's face suddenly dropped. "You don't like it?" 

Mickey immedately regret ever saying that. He sighed. "No, Ian, I don't meanー just... why?" He asked, looking at the mangled mess on Ian's chest. 

Ian took a step closer to Mickey, placing his hands on the brunet's hips. "What do you mean _why?_ Why not?" He asked softly. 

Mickey's eyes traced over the word  _Mikhailo_ tattooed on Ian's left peck. 

Ian smiled. "Paid the guy to let me do it myself. Makes it more special, doesn't it?" 

"Fucking looks infected." Mickey mumbled. Ian chuckled. 

"Yeah, well it's hard doing it on yourself. Wanted to know how it felt for you when you did your one yourself." Ian said. "You look so good right now." 

Mickey can feel the hard outline of Ian's dick where the redhead pressed his front against Mickey, but all that occupied his mind right now was that fucking tattoo. 

"Here, lemme patch that shit up." Mickey said, holding onto Ian's wrist and leading him to the kitchen. "Let it heal properly so you can get it removedー" 

Ian yanked his hand back. "No." He sternly said. "I don't want it removed." 

"You're drunk. It's a mistake."

"I don't fucking care, Mickey." Ian said, crowding Mickey against one of the walls. "Mickey. Mickey." Ian then leaned in close, whispering, " _Mikhailo_. I don't want it removed." 

Mickey sighed, pushing the redhead back a bit. "Ian." 

"Mickey." Ian repeated. "Tomorrow is finally the day we get to spend the rest of our fucking _lives_ together. I've loved you since I was fifteen years old. We've been apart for eight years and now, three fucking years later, we're still in love. We _stayed_ in love." Ian suddenly clasped a hand over his face. "Oh shit!" 

"What?" 

Ian gave Mickey a sheepish look, "I spoiled my vows." 

"Jesus Christ." Mickey sighed, annoyed at how shocked Ian was over that. 

Ian shrugged, "Anyway, I want this on my heart forever. I want _you_ in my heart forever. Fuck, I think that's also in my vowsー shit! Holy shit! I was supposed to show you this tomorrow! Fuck, haha, I ruined the surprise!" 

"You're so out of it." Mickey shook his head, pushing past Ian to fetch his future husband a bottle of water. "Drink this, Romeo."

Ian drank the whole thing before crushing the plastic in his hand and tossing it to the side. "My Juliet!" 

"Ian, go home. Mandy gave me shit about how we're not supposed see each other the night before our wedding and don't even think about  touching that fucking tattooー" 

"You really hate it, huh?" Ian asked, retracting his hand where he was about to subconsciously touch it. 

Mickey sighed, staring at it again. God, it was a mess. Tentatively, he brushed his fingers over it, making sure not to touch the parts that looked tender. "Nothing we can do about it now, I guess. Ink's already dried." 

Ian looked down at where Mickey had his fingers before beaming brightly at the brunet. "So you love it?"

Mickey dropped his hand. "Didn't say that." 

"So you hate it?" 

"It's whatever." Mickey shrugged. "Besides, be lying if I said it didn't turn me on a little." 

Ian smirked, clearly interested in where this would lead. "Only a little?" 

Mickey hummed. "Maybe a lot." He hooked his arms around Ian's shoulders, licking his bottom lip. 

"How's about some premarital sex?" Ian blatantly suggested, pressing his body against Mickey's. 

"Go easy on me, it's my first time." Mickey teased, smoothing his hands down Ian's body before his hand caught Ian's wrist, leading him into their bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended _way_ differently than I originally planned. Sorry if the last few chapters seemed rushed; I was so over this and I just wanted to finish it ASAP. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me until the end. I appreciate all the support! I hope you have enjoyed my story :^)


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